


Ceremony of Innocence

by Acantha_Echo



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fantasy World, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, Knights - Freeform, Logan would like to go home, M/M, Mind Control, Only see colour after touching your soulmate for the first time, Patton is a sweet heart no matter what, Roman needs to be a hero, Thomas is mentioned but not in it, Threats of Violence, Virgil is just done, but nothing graphic, magic use, people get hurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-02 23:39:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 33,156
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15806895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acantha_Echo/pseuds/Acantha_Echo
Summary: Soulmate AU.Sir Roman, Right Hand of the noble King Thomas is sent to deal with a rogue Warlock terrorising the locals, hopefully by diplomacy but he is granted leave to do whatever it takes to protect the innocents living in the villages.He fails.Dragged before the victorious Warlock, he expects to be killed. Instead, he meets his main adviser Logan, his prisoner Patton and his servant boy Virgil - the latter catching his eye the most.But things are not what they seem.





	1. A Faulty Start

**Author's Note:**

> This is my contribution to the fic exchange, @anony-phangirl I hope you like it! I ended up combining your two main requests, I really hope it's okay. And because I cannot stick to a decent word count for toffee, this became a three parter, enjoy!
> 
> Title and quote come from _The Second Coming_ by **W. B. Yates.**
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr @theeternalspace, come say hi!
> 
> Huge thank you to @Listernerofshadows who beta-ed this for me, picking up on spelling and other mistakes, you made it so much better. 
> 
> Thank you also to @flooftheriver who basically came up with two of the chapter titles and kept me going when I wanted to just quit, this would not have happened without you, along with everyone on discord who listened to me scream about getting this done in time and supported me. 
> 
> (And thank you to my dentist who didn't think I was _too_ weird mumbling “of course" around the mirror and tube as I finally worked out a particularly difficult plot point mid appointment.)

** A Faulty Start **

 

_Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;_  
_Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,_  
_The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere_  
_The ceremony of innocence is drowned._

__

__

_~ The Second Coming by W. B. Yates_

He had failed in his mission.

Roman knew he should be more concerned about the fact he was surely about to die, but all he could think about was that he had failed. His King had been counting on him, had entrusted him with this quest and Roman had _failed_ him. 

It had all sounded so simple too. There was a magic user out of control, attacking and burning buildings and people as he went. Nobody knew his name or where he had come from, or even what he looked like - those few that had fled to the castle after surviving an attack would describe a man in a floor length cloak, a mask obscuring any features. A Warlock ravaging the more distant villages from the Castle wasn’t exactly a normal occurrence in the kingdom, but it wasn’t completely unheard of either. And Roman was the Right Hand of the King, a Knight who had gone off on many quests on behalf of King Thomas. He had battled dragons, nagas, witches, sphinxes, all and anything that might have wished harm on the land he was sworn to protect. 

All of those had been successful and Roman hadn’t thought this would be any different. Indeed, his main thoughts upon riding out to confront the Warlock were not about the enemy but rather about a far more important topic - love.

He was still waiting to meet his soulmate. To touch them and finally see colour. The world was beautiful as far as Roman was concerned and yet everyone who had met their soulmate firmly told him what he could see was a mere shadow compared to the world when you had met your soulmate and touched for the first time. He wished he could see it. He wished he could understand what the brown of King Thomas’ eyes actually looked like, or the red of the sash of his uniform. Apparently he looked rather dashing in it - well of course he did, he was Sir Roman after all.

Roman was so nervous about the thought of meeting this mystery person, the one he was destined to spend his whole life with. So excited as well, and his thoughts returned constantly to the idea that somewhere, someone out there was looking for him too and one day they would find each other. Would it be today? Tomorrow? When would he finally find them?

Now he was about to die and the world was still only varying shades of grey. He was going to die and his soulmate would never even know him, would wonder who he was and why he had never come to find them. They would never know that he had been knocked unconscious by a blast of magic, far more powerful than it had any right to be. Burning crops and buildings was one thing, a fire spell out of control was easy enough for any young magic user to create but when he had finally found the masked figure, it was to discover this was no frightened person, lashing out and hiding their face in shame.

He hadn’t expected the level of vindictiveness in the magic attacks or the skill. This was someone who knew exactly what they were doing, who had apparently been trained in the arts - but there was nobody reported missing from any of the schools, that was the first thing Roman had checked, leading him to believe he was dealing with a novice.

The Warlock was many things, but a novice was not one of them. He had moved with a fluidity throughout the battlefield, apparently unhindered by the heavy clothing that obscured any and all hints as to his identity. Even in the middle of fighting, one moment invoking a charm of protection, the next matching a magical blade with his own steel, Roman had been able to appreciate the deadly grace in his opponents movements. He had been holding his own as best he could, even considering retreating in order to get reinforcements before a lucky blow sent him reeling to the ground, sword clattering to the ground. Roman had barely time to look up at the shadow like figure before a second bolt of magic knocked him out completely.

The next thing he knew, he had woken in up in what looked like an eerie recreation of Thomas’ throne room, heavy cuffs around his wrists attached to chains set into the ground. 

In all honesty, he had been a little surprised to wake up in the first place. 

The moment he had realised he had lost, he had expected to die in the duel, had thought the blow would have been a killing one. Not to wake up as a prisoner and be left alone for a while to consider his failure. And his bizarre surroundings. Everything was at once familiar - and yet not. The banners, while in the right place, where ragged, displaying a different symbol to the rainbow of the Sanders line. The throne was a darker shade of grey, and could be any colour really, its legs and arms carved into grotesque screaming animal faces. The whole room was lit by a series of flickering torches that merely served to lengthen the shadows already present, both in the actual room and in his own mind.

“Ah... you are awake.” The cold voice snapped him out of his internal moping, Roman lifting his head to look at the newcomer. 

By the foot of the throne stood a young man, smartly dressed in a black tunic and trousers. He wore expensive looking glasses, a faint frown upon his face as he stared at the knight and Roman stared back. Was that was the Warlock looked like under those robes? It was hardly the face of a monster, hardly a man who would willingly murder people. Roman bit at his bottom lip in confusion and while he knew that murders and other evil doers looked like everyone else, it was still strange to believe that this man was the one who had bested him in battle.

He looked more likely to give a lecture about the improper uses of magic rather than succumb to the lure of it himself. 

“I am Logan. I speak for my Lord and Master. We know all about you, who you are... what you are,” The man - Logan - told him, one hand lifting to adjust the side of his glasses as he spoke, that same, slight frown still on his features as though he found the idea of Roman in the room slightly distasteful. So, not the Warlock. Just an underling. He had sent an underling to do his bidding? Strangely, Roman could not help but feel a little insulted by that, that his enemy didn’t think he was worthy to even be killed by him. He was just going to send his little minion to do it for him. He was Sir Roman! He wasn’t supposed to die chained to the floor, he was meant to go out in a fabulous blaze of glory, worthy of songs, stories that would be passed down the ages. Logan, meanwhile, carried on, when it became clear Roman wasn’t going to actually speak.

“My Lord wishes to offer you a deal, Sir Roman. I would think carefully before you answer. Do you understand?”

“Fine, whatever minion, let me talk to the actual guy in charge,” Roman retorted and okay, so maybe the minion wasn’t going to kill him. That was better. He deserved better.

A second figure swept into the room. The Warlock, still clad in his long black robes, still hiding his identity, the coward. He didn’t even turn his head to look at Roman, merely settling in the throne, lounging across it sideways, as though he didn’t have a care in the world. He had all the power in this moment. He knew, and Roman knew it. Roman hated it. An arm lifted, gesturing towards Logan. Who in turn, cleared his throat before speaking. 

“My Lord is prepared to be generous to you. He will grant you your freedom, richies, your hearts desire. You will be given your own kingdom to rule freely as you wish, without hindrance. You may have your pick of all the most attractive men or women on offer and all will obey your every whim. In turn, all he requires is that you tell us the details of King Thomas’ defenses. Where are they strongest? What is the weak point?”

They wanted him to betray Thomas? Betray the man he had sworn with to protect with every fiber of his being. Betray the man who had brought meaning to his life, who had given him friendship as well as a reason for being. Betray the man who was too all intents and purposes, his real family. 

“No,” Roman snarled, straining against the chains, struggling furiously to break free. There was no give in them at all and he strongly suspected they were magical, enchanted to keep him trapped but he had to try. He wasn’t going to just stand here and betray everything he held dear. Logan’s eyes flickered to the side for a moment, as though listening to something only he could hear.

“Think Roman. You have been unconscious, kept in a magic coma for nearly two weeks now. Nobody is coming to save you, nobody even came looking. They have abandoned you, what loyalty do you owe a king who sends you to die? He knew my Lord to be a real threat and did not tell you. It is a simple enough deal. Your life will become a long, pleasant one. All you have to do is tell us a few little things,” Logan was all but pleading now, hands raising and falling in muted little gestures. As though he could hope to somehow change Roman’s mind and convince him he had been betrayed so best to betray back.

Roman refused to believe him. There was no way Thomas would abandon him like that or not give him the full details. Even if they didn’t come looking for him, he believed they would have a very good reason and he didn’t want to be bait, to be the cause of other knights falling into the Warlock’s power. A low growl rumbled up from his chest, his fury pushing every other thought and consideration aside.

“I would rather die!” Roman spat and while he longed for love, longed for life, he knew there were things that were far more important. Protecting Thomas and the kingdom was one of them. Logan sighed in defeat, shaking his head and stepping away from the throne to allow the Warlock to stand and slowly descend towards him. As quickly as emotion had appeared in Logan’s voice and expressions, it was gone again, the man appearing to distance himself from what was happening. There was a resigned look on Logan’s face as he watched the scene in front of him, the way the Warlock seemed to almost float across the room until he was within arms reach of Roman.

“So... die.” Logan intoned, voice remarkably even. Somehow, the monotone delivery was a lot more frightening than if it has been delivered with any gusto, any typically malevolent flair. Roman couldn't move as faint sparks of magic floated around him, the sparks of light pushing his head up and holding him in place.

A pale hand extended from the robe of the man in front of him, cold fingers wrapping around his neck and squeezing with an intensity that he knew couldn’t be purely natural. Roman refused to look away, to break eye contact with... well, with a hood but if the Warlock was going to kill him, then he was damn well going to have to look at him when he did it.

For a second, as the vice grip around his neck tightened even more, Roman saw... something. A sparkle of light, as though the world around him wanted to glow, the shades of grey becoming brighter, more saturated. It made him flinch at last, eyes closing even as he wheezed and fought for air he knew wasn't there. At the same time, the hand jerked away from his throat, Roman somehow able to breathe once more.

There was no time to wonder about what that spark was, Roman barely having time to draw in a great gasping breath before another painful bolt of magic ran through him, setting every nerve ending on fire. His body jerked and arched as the magical electricity danced through his veins.

Dimly, Roman was aware of a noise above the rush of blood and the beating of his own heart, louder and louder. It took a few more, agonizing seconds to realise the sound was screaming and another few after that, to realise the screams were his own.

It was a relief, when finally, everything went black.

\---

If anything, the confusion was even more acute in him, when he found himself waking up alive once more.

He groaned softly, rolling onto his side - and realising, belatedly, that he could roll onto his side. The bindings holding him in place were gone, a bed of straw replacing them. Roman twisted, trying to stagger to his feet but his legs refused to lift him more than a couple of inches before collapsing under him, returning him rather ungainly to the floor. Every limb was still trembling slightly, the phantom pain of the shocks still running through him and leaving him feeling weak and spent.

“Easy Kiddo,” a voice cautioned from somewhere to the right of him. “You seemed to be in quite a state when they dragged you down here, take it slow.”

There was someone else here? It wasn’t the voice of Logan and while the Warlock had yet to actually say anything to him, he somehow couldn’t imagine ‘kiddo’ coming out of his mouth. It made him pull himself forward with increased determination, ignoring the sound of distress that came from the stranger at his movements. Bit by bit, he crawled forward until he headbutted a metal pole.

“Woah there!” The stranger cried out again, voice increasingly panicked. “Your strength will come back, just let your body recover!”

Roman badly wanted to listen to him, but for all he knew this was all part of the Warlock’s plot. What the plot could actually be, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t trust anything. Hands gripped around the pole, using it to slowly drag himself upright, standing shakly on his own two feet once more. 

Finally, he took an actual look at his surroundings. 

He was in a cell. The pole was part of the barred wall the stretched across his cell, covering the whole open air. Behind him - the world spun a little as he turned, Roman doing his best to ignore the way things went hazy for a moment but he didn’t pass out so he counted it as a win - he could see the straw he had woken up on was indeed supposed to be a makeshift bed. Aside from that and a bucket in the corner that he was really not thinking about, there was nothing else in the room, three walls of which were lined by what seemed like very thick, solid rock, as if the room had been carved into living stone.

Bars were between him and the room stretching out in front, a room that he could now see contained a number of cells just like his own. Opposite and a little to the right was another occupied cell. The man peering through the bars looked around the same age as that Logan he had met in the throne room and was wearing the same style of thick black framed glasses as well. There, the similarities ended. Where Logan had been still and contained, with barely a flicker of expression crossing his face, this one seemed unable to even stand still, bouncing a little on his heels as he tried to get a better look at Roman. 

“I’m glad you’re awake,” the man told him with what felt like a far too chipper smile. “My name’s Patton, are you okay? You were twitching in your sleep.”

“I’m fine,” Roman mumbled, still unsure of what to make of all of this, what to make of Patton. “Why are you down here?”

“I’ve been down here longer than you kiddo, surely that should be my question?” Despite his answer, Patton didn’t seem at all put out by the question, shoulders rising and falling in an easy shrug, his somewhat tatty powder blue clothing riding up slightly as he did. A collection of healing bruises, all at least a week old, littered the flash of skin above the waist and it made a surge of anger rise up in him. He didn’t know if this Patton was really what he seemed but to attack someone who was already in your power, it was disgusting. The Warlock and Logan really were fiends and cowards of the worst sort. 

“I angered the Warlock and now I’m here,” Patton confessed after a long moment. 

“Same. My name’s Roman by the way,” he replied and even if this was all some kind of elaborate trap, the Warlock already knew his name so he wasn’t giving anything away. 

“Hello Roman!” Patton - if possible - seemed to brighten even more at learning the name, his smile wide and despite everything, Roman couldn’t help but relax a little, the man’s unfailing good nature infectious. “Well, despite the circumstances, it’s still wonderful to meet you.” 

“I wish I could say the same,” Roman told him, unable to help the smile that broke across his face. There was something about this man that he wanted to trust, and perhaps if he really was a prisoner of the Warlock as well, then he could. Maybe he had found an ally in his new quest to escape from the Warlock and warn Thomas that he was a much bigger threat than they had thought. Hopefully, Roman not returning would be proof enough of that, but he needed to give Thomas details, he needed to help. 

Across the room, Patton had let go of the bars to twist his fingers together, as though nervous. Roman couldn't imagine what he was nervous about now, they had already introduced themselves after all. Was this the part where he suddenly unmasked himself as a bad guy?

“Say... Roman... when you were angering the Warlock...” Patton trailed off, smile seeming to dim for just a fraction of a second before he hurried on. “Did you happen to see another man with glasses? Very neat appearance, calm tone of voice, handsome?”

“You mean Logan? The Warlock’s sniveling manservant?” Roman growled, hands tightening on the bar he was still holding onto at the thought of the Warlock’s little minion. Patton shook his head fiercely, the nerves gone, replaced by a surge of protective anger.

“Hey! Logan is many things, but he’s not that! He’s the kindest, sweetest person once you get to know him!”

“He's working for the Warlock,” Roman argued. “You know, the guy who made my limbs twitch, who locked us both in there and probably caused those bruises you have, remember him? Logan’s a bad guy!”

His words made Patton flinch, hands instinctively going down to brush at the hem of his ruined clothes, as though he could somehow cover the bruises so Roman would unsee them.

“Yes but he doesn't want to be. I’m his collateral you see,” Patton explained, shoulders dropping now, his happy smile gone completely. “We’re soulmates, Logan and I. And because the Warlock has me... he has us both. Logan will do anything to keep me safe, please don’t be mad at him for that. Be mad at me instead.”

“Mad at you? For being captured? I couldn’t do that!” Roman exclaimed. Something about Patton’s story rang true, maybe it was his tone of voice, the passion and the pain within. Maybe it had been that brief moment when Logan had seemed to be pleading with him to listen, those few seconds when he had felt as though he was talking to a person and not a golem, conjured into false life. He still wasn't completely sold on the idea but he felt as though he could play along for now, retaining a little suspicion in the back of his mind as he watched it all play out. 

It was just the sort of thing after all that a coward seemed likely to do, preying on people’s weak spots and what was a weaker spot than your soulmate, the person you loved more than anything else? For the first time in his life since he had become aware of the existence of soulmates, Roman found himself thankful that he hadn’t met them yet. 

The idea of someone wicked taking the person he loved and holding them to ransom so to speak, was enough to strike fear into even his heart. It was a problem, he realised, that his soulmate would have to deal with. Assuming Roman ever got out of here and met them of course. He wasn’t going to give up his role protecting the kingdom and that meant his love would have a target on their back. It wasn’t something he had ever considered before, the thought sending a cold shiver down his spine. 

With a visible effort, Roman pulled himself from his dark thoughts, a new level of sympathy for the man opposite him. 

“Oh, it's getting dark,” Patton exclaimed in excitement, the mood of the previous moment lost, his whole body twisting as he strained to see the window at the far end of the room, the sole source of natural light - or, as it stood right now, a lack of natural light.

“So?” Roman asked, confusion colouring his features, and he felt as though he was getting mental whiplash, from how rapidly Patton shifted emotions. He shouldn’t even be having this conversation, he knew he needed to start exploring his cell, to see if there was any weak spots and start to plan his escape. 

“Oh of course, you wouldn’t have met him yet. It’s night so it means my best friend in the whole world is able to come and visit!” Patton told him, hands clapping together in glee. Roman frowned, feeling as though he was suddenly rather slow witted. Logan wasn’t his best friend? There was someone else here, someone able to move about apparently at will? 

“You’re soulmate isn’t your best friend?”

“I love and like Logan with all my heart kiddo! But there is room in my heart for more than just Logan. The three of us grew up together, we’d do anything for each other... we did.” Patton’s voice trailed off as he spoke, words growing more pained as he did so. Stranger and stranger. 

Before Roman could question him further, the faint sound of footsteps came to his ears. He turned in the direction of the sound, Patton doing the same. 

A set of stairs was set into the wall opposite the single window, the torches lining a route from them to the cells. As he watched, a lanky pair of legs appeared in view, the body they belonged to appearing moments later. 

He... he took Roman’s breath away. 

The newest stranger was, quite literally, _enchanting_. He was slim, almost criminally so, all skin and bones yet still handsome despite it, his deliberately baggy clothing only exaggerating the thinness. His dark hair was swept down across his face obscuring eyes that Roman was sure would sparkle under the right situation. Roman couldn’t help but feel a little guilty, feeling such a strong reaction for someone who was bound to not be his soulmate, but he couldn’t help it. This man - Patton’s friend - was someone he wanted to save, to protect. Even more than Patton perhaps, he felt as if he didn’t deserve whatever hand he had been dealt to end up here. Roman knew nothing about him, not even his name and yet he was convinced that he was innocent. 

“Hey Patton,” the newcomer said softly, a hint of a smile on one side of his face, lips twitching. “I brought you food.” He held up a tray as he spoke, Roman only then becoming aware of it, and the small collection of food and drink balanced on it it. Patton beamed as it was slipped between the bars to him, placing it carefully on the ground of his cell. His fingers were long and delicate, pale against the black of the world around them, Roman for a moment imagining what they might look entwined with his own.

“Aww thanks Virgil, what about Roman?”

“Roman?” The man tilted his head to the side and oh, he was never going to grow tired of hearing his own name in that accent, the low almost growl of his voice and how it curled around the letters in his name. And Virgil. Virgil, Virgil, Virgil. What a name to go with his face. An unusual name to go with such an unusual man. He wanted to write a sonnet about the name alone, the majestic swell of violins that burst into a crescendo of music at the sound of the name.

Virgil lifted an eyebrow as he turned to look at Roman, staring at him through his hair and if anything, he was even more breathtaking up close. His smile grew even shyer, Virgil lifting a hand to rub at the back of his neck. Maybe it was Roman’s imagination and hope getting the better of him, but he could have sworn a darker shade of grey spread across Virgil’s cheeks, a delicate blush as they stared at each other. Finally, after what felt like an age and at the same time not nearly long enough, Virgil broke the eye contact, gaze slanting away to stare at the floor.

Inwardly, Roman couldn't help but mourn the loss of his gaze, as though it had been all his body needed to survive, the heat of those eyes on him.

“Oh, I didn't know there was anyone else down here.”

“You didn't?” Patton seemed surprised by that, although Roman didn't really know why.

“Yeah, like _he_ tells me anything,” Virgil said, the bitterness clear in his voice. He scuffed at the ground with the tip of his boot, biting lightly at his bottom lip. It shouldn't be as distracting as it was for Roman. “I can get some more,” he added reluctantly after a moment. Patton shook his head vigorously, ducking down to grab at the tray on the ground.

“Oh no, you don't need to, don't worry kiddo! He can just share with me,” Patton told him in a hurry, ripping off a chunk of bread and holding it out towards Roman. He was no expert but there didn't seem a lot of bread on that plate to start with, not when he had no clue how long it had been since the last time Patton has eaten.

His stomach growled hungrily at the sight of the bread, reminding him that while he might not know about Patton, he was abruptly reminded it had been a very long time since he had last eaten -weeks, if Logan’s earlier words were to be believed. Regardless of the reality, he was famished, the sight of food kicking his stomach into overdrive as it demanded food and yet Roman found himself hesitating over simply taking the offered food.

He was a knight, he was sworn to protect, to give everything for those less fortunate. If he was starving, it was very probable so was Patton, probably deliberately allowed less than he really needed, in order to keep him weak, keep him under control and thus Logan under control.

And Patton was hungry, Roman could see it in his eyes. He couldn't take food from him, couldn’t make himself stronger at the expensive of making someone else weaker but the thought of food was nearly enough to make him cry from want. Luckily, Virgil was there to make the choice for them, to be the strong one, stepping in between them and gently pushing the bread back towards Patton.

“Oh no _you_ don't, there is barely enough food there for one person, you aren't sharing. I'll just sneak some more down from the kitchens, give me a second.”

“Virgil no!” Patton’s hand shot out, catching Virgil by the wrist as he turned to go. All traces of the playful, bubbly man had vanished, his eyebrows pinched together in worry as he stared at the man. Not for the first time since Virgil had appeared in the room, Roman was aware of a silent conversation between the pair of them, a language passing over his head because he was outside the dynamic, he didn’t know either of them enough to be able to pick up on all the tiny tells and emotions they were expressing. 

He wanted to know Virgil well enough to be able to talk and be understood through eyes alone. 

“You know what he’ll do if he finds out,” Patton whispered at last, voice still sounding deafening loud in the otherwise silent room, echoing around the cavernous strone area. 

“Then I'll just have to makes sure he doesn't find out,” Virgil told him, a smirk appearing on his face for a moment, something almost reckless in that smile and somehow, Roman had a feeling it was an expression he only wore when he needed the courage to do something he didn’t want to. It was clear that for whatever reason, Virgil really didn’t want to go back to the kitchen, Roman’s brain still trundling along a few paces behind the rest of the room, a comfortable white noise filling his brain as he stared hopelessly at Virgil.

It seemed to be enough to convince Patton that Virgil wasn’t going to change his mind, the other man giving a heavy, defeated sigh. Virgil, in turn, lifted two fingers in a silent salute to Patton before gently yet firmly pulling his arm away, Patton easily letting go. 

Without another word, Virgil turned and headed back the way he had come, vanishing up the staircase and back out of sight. 

Throughout it all, Roman had simply stood there like some living statue, lost in his own thoughts.

“Patton,” Roman whispered, afraid if he spoke too loudly then he might wake up and find himself still a prisoner but without these interactions. “What colour are Virgil’s eyes?”

“Huh? Oh, purple.”

“Purple,” Roman repeated dreamily, staring in the direction Virgil had disappeared off in. “I bet they are beautiful... wait! What did you mean, if he finds out?” The conversation from a few minutes ago was only now just starting to sink into his brain, a jolt of panic running through him, the adrenaline kicking his thoughts into overdrive as he finally realised there had been fear behind the smirk, a tremor in his movements as he had strode purposefully away. Not to mention the hardly subtle warning Patton had given and he kicked himself for not responding at the time. 

“Virgil is allowed to take a set amount from the kitchens to feed me. If he gets caught sneaking more food, then the Warlock will punish him badly for it.”

“No!” Roman gasped, shaking the bars as if they wouldn’t suddenly break under his weak attack. He couldn’t believe he had been duped into becoming the damsel in distress. It wasn’t this Virgil’s job to risk himself to help Roman, to save Roman from hunger. He was the knight, he was supposed to risk it all for other people. He needed to make a plan to save himself and these people, to somehow get all four of them out of the Warlock’s clutches and instead Virgil had the audacity to look and sound the way he did and drive all such noble thoughts from his mind.

Unsurprisingly, the bars did not bend. He lacked the energy to shake them for longer than a few moments, Roman groaning and leaning his head against them. The metal of the bars were at least cool against his forehead, Roman closing his eyes in frustration. Anything could be happening in the rooms above his head, Virgil could be running into any and all kinds of trouble right now, all because Roman hadn’t had the brains to insist he didn’t need to eat.

“Miss me?” A low, gravelly voice interrupted his thoughts, Roman’s eyes flying back open in shock. That same, self satisfied smirk was back on his face, Virgil suddenly in front of him once more, another tray of food in his hands. Roman couldn’t remember why he was so annoyed with the other man, and he looked so endearing like this, so pleased with himself and being able to offer the knight something.

His stomach gave another angry growl, sounding like some kind of tortured wild animal, Roman sheepishly taking the offered gift with a mumbled thanks, a blush of his own almost certainly staining his cheeks. 

Virgil lifted a hand to his mouth, covering the faint chuckle that seemed to want to escape, his eyes crinkling up in warmth as he nodded towards the tray still held in the other man’s hands. 

“Don’t worry Roman, I’ve got you.”

Virgil had no clue how true those words really were. 

Then again, Roman had no clue either.

\--

Virgil came every night to the dungeons in order to feed them both.

Some nights he came later than others, but no matter what time he actually arrived, he would always stay until the first crowing of the cockerel before hurrying back upstairs, afraid the Warlock would catch him where he wasn't supposed to linger.

During those nights, Roman learnt a lot about Patton, Virgil and even the ever absent Logan. He heard stories about them as children, the adventures they would get into with Patton wandering off to explore, Virgil charging after him to make sure he was safe and Logan following after with the actual knowledge needed. Roman couldn’t even begin to imagine what it was like to have always seen colour. To have touched your soulmate so young in life that you didn’t even realise the world had once been grey. 

He was more than a little envious of Patton’s bond, despite the terrible situation they were all in and he was sure Virgil felt the same. 

He learnt more about the situation at hand, about the bruises that Virgil would try and cover up, the stiffness to his movements a few nights after he had first started bringing food to them both, Virgil eventually admitting that the Warlock had discovered what he was doing. It was fine, he insisted, it was worth the punishment he had received because afterwards he had been granted official permission to bring Roman food. It didn’t stop the wail of distress from Patton or how he insisted on hugging Virgil through the bars of his cell.

What he didn’t learn, was how close the Warlock was to launching his planned attack against his King.

Virgil seemed curiously uninformed of the Warlocks movements and plans, as though he rarely interacted with him. Roman liked to think he was a good read of people and everything in him told him that Virgil was a good guy, that he was someone to be trusted despite the fact he seemed to have completely unrestricted access to the whole of the Warlock’s lair.

Virgil was still hiding something from him though. Exactly what, he wasn't sure but he was fairly confident it was to do with the reason why this trio was in this predicament to begin with. There was something a little off about Virgil, something a little different and it bothered him that he couldn’t quite seem to put his finger on what.

He would often catch Virgil staring at Patton when the other man wasn’t looking, an expression of deep sadness and guilt on his features and it didn't take a genius to work out that Virgil blamed himself for the fact his friends were trapped. Not that Virgil or Patton would explain what had happened. 

Virgil would instantly clam up whenever Roman pressed the issue, a wild and panicked look on his face as if Roman had suddenly sprouted horns and a was trying to attack him. Patton was equally unhelpful, stubbornly insisting that it wasn't his story to tell. How it wasn't his story when he was a prisoner as a direct result of it was beyond Roman but without knowing the story there was little he could say in response.

His plans at escaping had crawled along. There was no chink in the walls, no loose bar to break and unless he could convince Virgil to bring the key, Roman didn't know how he was getting out of the cell. And Virgil was too much of a defeatist to even try. It was, perhaps, a little unfair for Roman to think that, but everyone had to have a flaw and it seemed an overabundance of pessimism was Virgil's. He was too afraid of the Warlock catching up to Roman, too afraid of a lot of things, some part of him knowing that the bruises that littered the other man's skin were more numerous than he knew and that Virgil probably had a good reason for being afraid. It didn't stop the arguments they had, the only time they fought as Roman tried to get Virgil to just trust him enough to try and Virgil refused to explain why it was a terrible idea, only that it was.

One thing was for sure though; Roman had fallen head over heels for the shy servant and they hadn't even touched to see if they were soulmates.

In all honesty, he was a little afraid to make physical contact. 

Because what if they touched and the world remained in its ever present grayscale? What if the fates decided to be cruel and deny him someone he realised he longed for more than anyone he had ever met. They had to be soulmates, they had to be... but that little kernel of fear refused to go away, refused to release its hold on him.

It was hardly the nobility and bravery of a knight.

He knew he had to tell Virgil and soon, but he had no clue how. He had to know if those shy smiles and faint blushes really were for him, if Virgil was starting to feel the same way. He had to know if Virgil loved him, because he loved the other man, so much. If they were soulmates, he wanted their first touch to be something better than through the bars of a jail cell. Another reason why he had to convince Virgil to let them all out so they could escape together. Perhaps tonight would finally be the night.

The sound of hurried footsteps caught his attention, Virgil appearing seconds later, much earlier than he normally would. Even on the best nights, he would spend an hour or two upstairs, trying to get all his jobs done as quickly as possible so that he could safely spend the rest of his time with them - unlike the first few nights when he had visited first, intent on making sure Patton ate. Once he realised if he did it the other way round he would get to spend more time with them, Virgil has swapped jobs.

Roman hoped spending time with him had helped influence his choice. Yet here he was, as early as the first days.

“Patton!” Virgil was actually smiling as he rushed along the room towards his friend, an honest smile that he wasn't even making a token effort to hide. He stopped in front of Patton’s cell, the smile still there. It might not be as intense as the ones Patton would beam out to the world and yet Roman found himself preferring it. It was sweeter, rarer, more beautiful. The most beautiful smile he had ever seen and he hoped one day to be blessed by having that smile directed at him - once he saved them all.

“Logan is allowed to come visit, an extra one he says. He is on his way now.”

Patton instantly jumped back from the cell, hands lifting to tug through his hair, trying to remove the knots and pat it down into some semblance of neatness. He looked nervous, as though he was meeting a date for the first or second time, rather than spending a night with his established soulmate.

Roman’s heart clenched, a wave of pain running through him. How long had it been since they had last even seen each other? Let alone been allowed to touch each other, to spend time with each other.

A second echo of footsteps sounded, growing steadily louder and louder. It didn't take long for Logan to appear. Roman hadn't seen him since that first meeting, when he had unceremoniously sentenced him to death and he couldn't help the wave of resentment that washed across him now as he stared at him.

This was Patton’s soulmate, this was someone who was forced against their will to follow the Warlock, someone who from all the stories would much rather be curled up with a book and his friends than planning evil deeds.

He was still the mouthpiece of Roman’s mortal enemy.

He was also holding a large key. Logan headed straight for the cell holding Patton, ignoring the other two. Roman supposed it made sense. He saw Virgil every day and Roman was no one to him. He unlocked the door, all but rushing into the cell and Patton’s arms. The two embraced each other, Logan burying his face in Patton’s neck, a stream of mumbled words, too low for Roman to understand coming from him.

Roman looked away, unwilling to intrude on such a private moment. Virgil was looking away too, the pale young man fidgeting nervously. To his surprise, Virgil elected to move closer to his own cell, sliding down the bars to sit on the ground, his back against the metal. He stared to the left, as though the empty cell he was looking at was the most fascinating thing in the world. 

“They could escape right now you know,” Virgil told him quietly, still not turning his head or acknowledging him in the slightest. “The Warlock would chase them of course, he decides when he is done with his toys. Still, they would have a good few hours headstart and maybe they would even be able to stay away. But they won't, they won't even try because they refuse to leave me behind.” 

Roman blinked a couple of times, unsure of what to say. Virgil was so close, close enough to touch, to see if that silky hair really was as soft as it seemed. He could finally touch him and discover if they would be able to see colour but this... this was Virgil opening up to him in a way he had never had before. That was more important than Roman’s own grand romantic dreams. This was a foundation he could hopefully build on. He needed to pick his next words carefully, Roman internally flailing at the trust Virgil was showing him right now. Lowering his guard, offering his back, sitting so close... Virgil had never done any of that before. Even when he had talked to Roman, sometimes for hours, he had always stayed physically close to Patton, leaning into the easy touches offered there.

After a moment or two of hesitation, Roman slid down the bars are well, sitting a couple of feet away from Virgil, letting him have a little bit of space that he could chose to close if he wanted. Roman was afraid of pushing too hard, of spooking the anxious young man before he was ready. 

“Why can’t you escape with them?” Roman asked softly, turning his head to look at his friend. Virgil laughed, a harsh, bitter laugh. It was nothing like the giggles he could sometimes tease out of him, it sounded alien on Virgil’s lips, a dark, wrong sound. 

Roman hated it. 

“He owns me,” Virgil whispered, drawing his knees up tight against his chest. Arms lifted, Virgil pulling down the sleeve of his right one so Roman could see his wrist and the series of black dots and dashes that wound around like, almost like a bracelet. His whole frame was shaking slightly and Roman wanted so badly to just draw him into his arms and hug him. Not even to hopefully fill his world with colour, but just to ease Virgil, to try and comfort him. This was it though. This was some of his most pressing questions being answered and so he stayed quiet, some part of him hating that he wasn’t ending this right now and comforting Virgil like he deserved. Sure enough, after a short pause, Virgil carried on.

“Logan and Patton he... he has trapped them with his magic, but that only works when he is here. He bound me, he owns my body. Even if I ran, the second the sun comes up he would find me and he would hurt those I care about. So I can’t leave and because I can’t, they won’t.” Virgil’s fingers played against the dark marks on his skin as he spoke, the black a striking contrast against the pale, almost translucent colour of his skin. “If you... if you were to escape, they would refuse to go with you and then the Warlock would punish them for your escape. It’s why I can’t help you Roman, I’m sorry.”

The anguish in his voice was almost like a physical slap against Roman, his mind reeling with all the new information that had been thrown at him. He suddenly understood the other man’s reluctance now and he couldn’t help but wonder how many of those bruises that littered his body were because of things someone else had done and Virgil had been the one to hurt and bleed for it. 

It was, he had to admit in a detached part of his brain, a brilliant strategy on the part of the Warlock. Not only using someone’s loved ones against them, holding them as ransom for your good behaviour but punishing them for your actions. Who would even risk trying to escape when failure - or even success - would result not in your arm being broken but the arm of the person you loved most in the world? Although Virgil didn’t say it, he was fairly confident from what he knew, if Patton and Logan did run, then it would be Virgil who paid the price for it. No doubt one of the reasons why they refused to leave him. 

“Hey... hey, Virgil, look at me, okay,” Roman instructed, as firmly and as kindly as he could. There must have been something in his voice, because to his own surprise, Virgil actually turned to look at him, eyes blown wide. He really was beautiful - an odd description for a man perhaps, but no less true. “I get it now. And I’m going to get us all out of here, I promise.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep Roman,” Virgil replied softly, head tilting forward just a fraction. More than ever, Roman wanted to kiss him right now. Wanted to cup his cheek, to brush his thumb in gentle circles against his skin as they leaned in for a soft but passionate kiss. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew he wouldn’t, not without asking permission first but Roman couldn’t help wanting it, a deep longing in his thoughts. There must have been something on his face that conveyed his desire because Virgil was suddenly twisting away and scrambling back to his feet. There was a blush on his cheeks once more, his hands raising and falling in short, jerky motions.

“I... I uh, I have to go, I have jobs,” he stammered, unable to even look at Roman as he back peddled away from him.

“Wait, no, Virgil!” Roman climbed to his feet as well, hand stretching out through the bars to try and calm him, to try and stop him, the guilt churning wildly in his stomach and he shouldn’t have moved so fast, shouldn’t have let his his own feelings get the better of him. Especially when Virgil was finally sharing some of the most painful secrets with him and being magically bound to the Warlock certainly added an extra layer of problems to the whole thing but he wasn’t about to let that stop him from saving them all.

Unfortunately, he was unable to stop Virgil fleeing, vanishing up the stairs in a dash, leaving Roman alone. Well, alone bar the two newly reunited soulmates and really, he might as well have been alone for all the good they would do him right now.

\--

Somewhere along the way, Roman had fallen asleep. He had waited for hours in the hope that Virgil might come back down to the cells, so they could talk more, so he could apologise. So he could finally confess the feelings in his heart and how he didn’t want to pressure or force him, he would never but he needed to know it wasn’t just some casual things for Roman. He didn’t normally go around fantasizing about kissing beautiful people on the lips.

Okay, so he _did_ but not like this. When he had imagined kissing the people he knew it had been more a faint sketched outline, a bare bones sort of thing where he had wondered what it would be like without going into any real detail. With Virgil it had been a striking watercolour that was just waiting for all the vibrant colours to burst into life. 

All his thoughts, his explanations, his worries and plans about how to get them out spun around and around in his head, building with his concern for Virgil when the servant didn’t come back down until eventually, he succumbed to sleep. 

He wasn’t really sure what woke him, if it had been a soft sound or shift in air. Maybe it had just been his instincts kicking in, warning of danger. Whatever it was, he woke to find a cloaked figure standing silently by the bars of the cell.

Instantly, Roman was rolling into an upright position, knees slightly bent as though ready to attack. He had no idea how long the Warlock had simply been standing there, watching him sleep. His fingers itched with the urge to try and land a punch somewhere on him, to make him pay for all the pain he had dealt in his life. For all the darker spots on Virgil’s skin that betrayed the existence of bruise after bruise. 

There was no way to tell of course, no hint of a face within the shadows created by the large hood, but Roman had the distinct impression that the Warlock was smirking at him. It just made him want to try and punch him all the more. 

The Warlock turned away from him, striding purposefully towards the other occupied cell. As Roman scrambled over the bars, he couldn’t help but wonder if the Warlock had been waiting for him to wake up on purpose. It was as if he wanted an audience for whatever was about to happen. The thought sent a chill running through him and if the Warlock wanted him to see this, then it couldn't be good.

Logan moved from the back of the cell as the Warlock approached, climbing to his feet from where he had been sleeping with Patton, shoulders slumped in defeat. 

“No,” Logan gasped, jumping a little, as though the word had surprised him. He froze a few paces from the entrance to the cell, shaking head as though in response to a conversation Roman couldn't hear. Shock and fear crossed his face, the first unguarded expressions Roman had seen on him. “You said I would have more time! You said... you said you wouldn’t, not yet!”

The Warlock simply stood there, the hood tilted ever so slightly to the side and the silence was far worse than any yelling or taunting he might have said. It was the gap between words, Roman’s mind spinning rapidly as he filled the space with conversations of his own, of threats and promises and everything that his very active imagination could conjure up.

“It's okay Logan,” Patton murmured softly, one hand on his arm. Roman hadn't even seen him approach, too busy imagining what could be being said between the two and he had started to suspect that the Warlock communicate telepathically. This just seemed to prove it. 

“No, no, it's not okay,” Logan replied, voice cracking and breaking. Roman felt as though he was intruding on a terribly private moment and yet for all of that he could only stand there and watch, caught by the strange swirl of emotions wrapping around them all. “It’s not supposed to be you yet, it’s supposed to be me, I’m supposed to look after you...”

“I know Lo... but you can’t. Not from this. If it's my turn, then its my turn. Don’t let him see you cry Lo, don’t let him win. For me. For Virgil.” Patton’s voice was low and soothing, a steady stream of whispers as he wrapped his arms around his soulmate, holding him close. For a long moment there was silence bar Logan’s repressed sobs, tiny broken whimpers slipping out as his shoulder rose and fell.

Roman was a little surprised the monster was letting them have their moment. Then again, he supposed, it didn’t matter if they did because they had no choice in the end. And hugging each other close only reinforced their feelings for each other, ensuring that they remained firmly under the Warlock’s control. He was an evil fiend and Roman couldn’t wait to end his miserable existence. 

With a final shuddering breath, Logan seemed to calm slightly, nodding into Patton’s shirt although he made no move to step away. It was left to the other to break their embrace, his own eyes suspiciously ringed and wet. His gaze was fixed on Logan and even at the side angle Roman was at, he could still see the expression reflected within those eyes, the sheer love that shone in them. It was the kind of love that would make any sacrifice, no matter how great, if it meant that their soulmate was safe.

Patton turned to face the Warlock properly, trying to keep his breathing steady. He swallowed heavily, his own fear evident in his eyes, easily replacing the love now that Logan wasn’t there to see it. “I'm ready.”

“Ready?” Roman interrupted, the dread growing in his stomach. Something terrible was about to happen, that much was obvious and despite the half of the conversation that he had heard, he was still no closer to understanding what it was. It had frightening Logan however, and from the stories Patton and Virgil had told him of their childhood, the other man was not the sort of person who got frightened easily. He certainly wasn’t the sort of person who would actually show their fear if they could manage to suppress it and yet here he was - terrified. 

“Ready for what? What is happening?” 

He was ignored, Roman giving another useless shake of the bars. There was nothing he could do but watch as the Warlock slowly lifted both his arms, a strange humming sound coming from him as he did. Light streamed from Logan, tendrils of some strange, shining liquid like substance rising up from him. They spun up and around his head, seeming to dance in time to the low hum the Warlock was making, before diving for Patton and sinking into his skin as though he was absorbing all the energy. 

Logan crumpled to the ground as though all his stings had been cut and Patton... Patton didn’t even blink. Didn’t turn around or try to help his soulmate, he simply moved forward, passing the Warlock to stand in front of Roman. There was a faint sneer on his face as he looked at him, something that sat so oddly on normally open and kind features.

“Well, Sir Roman, you have been experiencing my Lord’s hospitality for some time now... have you considered his most generous offer?”

“Patton...” Roman trailed off, staring at him and trying to find some hint of the man he knew. In the back of his mind, he took note of the words and the implication within. The Warlock still needed his information, which meant Thomas was still safe. 

“Will you aid him, Sir Roman?” Patton pressed, although it was clear that it wasn’t Patton talking, but that the Warlock had used some spell to talk through him, was playing with him instead of speaking himself. He had never really met Logan at all, had he? 

“Go to hell, who do you think you are, messing with Patton and Logan like this, hurting Virgil. You’re going to die and I am going to be the one to do it,” Roman hissed, staring past Patton to glare at at the Warlock. He felt strangely calm despite the wild emotions that were swirling around him, the rage directed towards this monster, the worry for these three people he had somehow grown close to - although he had yet to actually speak with Logan, the way the other two talked, he felt as though he knew him. His love for Virgil burned as brightly as ever and yet it was as though he was standing the eye of the storm, and he knew with certainty how this was going to end. With his sword in the Warlock’s face. 

A sharp crack sounded in the room, Patton dropping to the ground without another word, although his chest was still rising and falling evenly, letting Roman know he was still alive. It seemed as though the Warlock was finally tired of talking through others. At last. 

The door to his cell swung open, Roman feeling invisible hands pushing him backwards, keeping him pinned in place. A coward, right to the end. Too afraid that he might receive the beating he so richly deserved, he had to use his magic to protect himself against his prisoner. Probably because he knew Roman would attack him, given any chance. He stepped closer, his cloak trailing along the ground as he moved into the cell. Although he knew it would be useless, Roman strained against the magic bonds, trying to break free and this was his chance, his perfect chance. If he could just defeat him, then they would all be saved. The Warlock’s magic held firm though, Roman unable to even move an inch towards him.

“I am going to _kill_ you, I swear by all the Gods,” Roman repeated, voice low and dangerous, the most serious he had been since this whole ordeal had begun. 

“Really?” 

That voice.... Roman... _knew_ that voice. Even if he hadn’t been trapped in place by magic, he would have been frozen by that single word, by the dark amusement audible in it and the sickening familiarity within. 

He couldn't breathe.

Hands slipped out of the heavy folds of the cloak. Pale hands. Far too familiar, pale hands. Hands he had dreamed about, hands he had wanted to hold. Hood was pulled down, finally revealing the face of his enemy at long last. Except he already knew the face of his enemy and had for a while now. 

He... couldn't _breathe_.

“Say that again Roman. About how you’re going to kill me,” Virgil asked, a cold, triumphant smile on his face.


	2. A Dark Turn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The comments I received for part one have just been lovely and I have adored each and every scream you gave me! 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @theeternalspace come say hi. 
> 
> Kudos and comments feed my soul, please let me know what you think, the third and final part, should - all being well - come out on Friday.
> 
> And with that being said, let's jump into part two and see how much worse things can possibly get. It’s always darkest before the dawn right?

** A Dark Turn **

Roman was numb. Everything he had thought he had known, had believed in this place, it had all come crashing down around him. Wrong was right, up was down and he didn’t know what he was going to do. Logan wasn’t the enemy, he had been forced into acting as the mouthpiece for the Warlock, for the commander who planned to destroy everything in his path, who wanted to kill King Thomas and claim his throne for himself. Logan was nothing more than a puppet on some strings for the real villain of the piece.

For Virgil. 

His mortal enemy was Virgil. 

And to think, he had been fool enough to believe that he could have felt something for the servant, that maybe there could have been a happy ending buried under all the pain and fear. All the little things that hadn’t made sense at the time crowded his mind, all the hints that things weren’t quite as they seemed. The way in which it had seemed odd how there seemed to be no other servants or slaves around, as if Virgil could somehow manage everything on his own. 

The strange lack of knowledge Virgil had on the Warlock’s movements, that curious disinterest in his plans and how he couldn’t tell Roman anything that would have helped him gain a better understanding of the way in which the Warlock’s mind worked, or what he was plotting to do next. Of course Virgil wouldn’t want him to know the Warlock’s movements or when he was going to attack Thomas. He didn’t want even the slightest possibility that Roman might decide to escape on his own and rely any useful information back to his King.

Thern there had been the way in which he refused to help even plan an escape. At the time, Roman had attributed it to his inherent defeatism and after that, to his loyalty to his friends. Roman had been such a fool, so naive to have believed what now seemed so obviously a flimsy series of excuses, because why would the Warlock want his prey crawling out of the trap he had so carefully constructed for him, a world he had built to break him down in. 

Virgil must have laughed every time he left the cells, cackling to himself at how stupid Roman had been, following every stage direction without ever realising it was all a performance. 

Had this whole thing been a game? A little show put on to - what, lull Roman into a sense of false security? To weaken him. To make him... feel things. And feel, Roman had. He had all but fallen in love with Virgil or rather with the image he had been presented with. Someone fragile but strong, terrified but brave, who risked so much and asked for nothing in return. Who had loved his best friends to such extremes, who would have done anything to keep them safe, even if it meant being a victim. He had loved the Virgil who had smiled at him shyly, who had brought him food because it had been the right thing to do. 

He had loved a shade, a figment. He had loved nobody at all. 

Then there had been Patton, sweet, loving, kind Patton. Who would have known the truth surely? He must have known about the deception Virgil was playing on Roman, there was no way he was oblivious to the fact that Virgil and the Warlock were one and the same. Had he ever really met Patton or had the other prisoner been acting this whole time? Had Virgil been talking through him in every conversation they had ever had? Had anything in the cells ever been real?

A sob built up in the back of his throat, Roman lifting a hand to slap it across his face, trying to swallow the pain back down. Numbness was better than this, the tiny slivers of fire that wanted to break through the ice that was currently encasing him. His shoulders shook, emotion welling up in him, attempting to find any outlet it could, any way to express the pain and betrayal and misery that was churning under an ice sheet of nothingness. He wasn’t going to cry. He wasn’t going to give them any further satisfaction. No matter how much he hurt under the surface, he couldn’t let them win every throw of the die. 

Doubts continued to crawl all over him. Flea bites relentlessly snapped at his skin, wriggling into his mind and refusing him to simply accept the truth as it was. Because Virgil being the Warlock had made a chillingly large amount of sense sure, a sickeningly large amount of sense but it didn’t explain everything though. His mind leapt on all the little inconsistencies, his heart grabbing at any possibility that perhaps things were not quite as dark as they seemed. 

No matter how much his head told his heart that it was impossible, that the conversation between the two of them had proved it was Virgil and that everything had been a ploy to get into his head and make him betrayal his King, some part of him wanted desperately to find any other answer to the reality that was staring him in the face - Virgil was his enemy and this had to end with one of them dead. With Virgil dead, for the sake of the Kingdom.

There was still the bruises he had seen on Virgil's skin, the pain that had been written across his body in mute testimony to the apparent cruelty of the Warlock when he had been defied. Would Virgil really have gone so far as to order Logan to injure him just to sell the illusion that he was some damsel in distress and in need of rescue, to inflame Roman’s passions further still? Before all of this, he would he laughed at the idea of Virgil being willing to hurt himself, to have pushed himself like that. Maybe to protect his friends yes, but he had always seemed so resigned to the pain, curling into himself to try and hide the wounds, as though it was something to be ashamed of instead of something he was going to use to elicit sympathy from Roman. 

The pain had always seemed to raw and aching and perhaps it had only been a spell, glamoured to look that way but then again, perhaps not. It still didn’t explain the dark markings around Virgil’s wrists and while Roman was no mage himself, he knew enough of magic to tell when something was actually magical or not - and whatever those lines really were, they were infused with a powerful magic, something that had come off them in waves, so potent Roman had been almost able to taste it.

There had been the way Patton and Virgil had both spoken of the Warlock, the anger, disgust and fear that had filled every single word they had spoken. Roman was a fantastic actor but even he would have struggled to fill his voice with such emotion if the opposite was true and they were really about to laugh at how gullible he was. Virgil had seemed to despise the Warlock and despite the truth slapping him in the face, he wanted to believe that.

For perhaps the millionth time, Roman replayed the encounter with Virgil in his head, hoping this time he might make better sense of it. 

\--

He couldn’t breathe.

Virgil stood before him but it wasn’t a Virgil he recognized. He stood straighter, spine an erect line, a proud tilt of his chin that seemed so strange against his memory of the more timid, melting into the background servant he thought he knew so well. This man might as well have been a stranger.

“You... you’re the Warlock?” Roman asked, voice little more than a whisper as he stared at him, feeling his heart break in his chest, all previous bravado and promises of killing him forgotten because how could be possibly hurt the Warlock when he was Virgil? 

His heartbreak and pain must have been written only too clearly on his face, Virgil’s own expression shifting into something even more triumphant. He stepped closer and Roman would have been unable to move even without the magical bonds that were holding him so clearly in place. How many times had he imagined being closer to Virgil, to being able to see him without bars in the way? How many times had he dreamed of nothing between them.

This new reality stretched out between them, a deep and endless gorge that could never be bridged and to even attempt it would surely result in him falling to his doom.

“Join me,” Virgil offered, voice silky and smooth. It was like honey, dripping around him, something so sweet and tempting and all Roman had to do was simply agree.

“What?” Roman blinked a couple of times, startled out of the haze of pain that his realization had brought, shifting from the reality of this new world to the strange question he was being asked. 

“Join me Roman,” Virgil repeated, a soft smile on his face. It looked strange, something false as though Virgil had spent hours staring into a mirror, practising how you were supposed to look, how to smile without it being threatening. It was nothing like the smiles he had offered in the past. Then again, maybe this was the real smile and all the ones he had given Roman when pretending to be the poor little slave boy had been the illusions. Virgil stepped even closer, close enough that Roman could smell the sharp tang of lemons and cloves, along with something else, some smokey element that was uniquely Virgil. Before, he would have thought it charcoal or something similar, but now, the scent just brought bile up to his throat, a sharp scent of despair. 

“Join me, not as my prisoner, not as my thrall like those fools. I promised you anything you wanted back in the throne room when we first met. Even then, I knew you were special, I knew you were... different.” 

“Different how?” Roman would be lying if he claimed he wasn’t tempted. Oh, how he was tempted. The feelings he had for Virgil hadn’t vanished simply because he had learnt the terrible truth about who he really was. Feelings didn’t work like that, he couldn’t turn off his emotions, his love with a single thought. If he wanted, he could let those feelings become a reality, he could have this brilliant man and stand proudly beside him. 

All it would cost him would be betraying his King and country, would be turning his back on everything and everyone who has ever believed in him. He could have love and all it would cost him would be his soul.

“You interest me Roman, in a way nobody and nothing has ever interested me before. I offered you everything before. Now I offer you something more than that. Me. You can have me Roman, just like I know you want. We can be together and together... we would be unstoppable,” Virgil breathed, leaning in so close they were almost touching. All it would take would be Roman to dip his head and they could kiss, his eyes dropping to those lips despite himself. How many times had he imagined kissing Virgil? Whispering sweet nothings to him? Taking him away from this place and it turned out he didn’t need to be rescued because he was the one holding all the keys. 

“Be mine Roman. Let me be yours.”

Virgil reached out, cool fingers brushing against Roman’s cheek, the other man drawing in a sharp gasp of a breath at the contact, oxygen greedily rushing into his lungs at long last. For days now he had been imagining this moment, day dreaming of when they would finally have skin contact, when perhaps he would confess his feelings to the dark haired beauty. When, if Roman was very lucky, Virgil might admit that he felt something back, that love was stirring within him too. He was a romantic fool, he knew, but there had always been something about Virgil that had caught him.

None of his fantasies had ever played out quite like this.

The world fizzled around him, seeming to shine that little bit brighter and despite himself, Roman found himself hoping, staring into eyes that he had been told were purple, were beautiful, willing the dark shades of black to shift and twist, for the world to uncoil its colours and for him to finally understand what purple actually was. What red and heartbreak and agony really were.

Everything remained in black and white.

Virgil wasn’t his soulmate. 

That fact didn’t seem to bother Virgil all that much. Or his own heart, the traitorous organ thumping frantically away at their close proximity, screaming at how near he was, how much he cared for him. How much his heart yearned to be with Virgil, no matter what. His whole life had been spent in service to another and although Roman didn't regret his choices that had led him to become the King’s personal knight, it could sometimes get a little... lonely, atop the mountain. For a while now he had indulged his heart, had allowed it to imagine another beside him and no matter what, it seemed unwilling to give that fantasy up.

It wasn't just his looks although Roman would have been blind not to notice how attractive Virgil was, the apparent softness of his hair, the pleasing shape of his body, those legs that were far too thin and yet something about the little twist he did with them everytime he turned had Roman almost drooling at the mouth. His hands, oh the knight felt as though he could write entire works of art on the subject of Virgil’s hands alone, those long, delicate fingers that he imagined holding close, the way in which he would lift them over his face to try and mask his smile, as though being happy was somehow a crime. All of that had easily captivated Roman but it was his personality as well, that shy smile mixing so perfectly with the dry comments he would make, the sarcastic little jabs. How he had never seemed to care about his own well being, how his thoughts had always been turned outwards, aimed at those he was loyal to. 

It didn’t matter that the personality couldn’t have been real, his heart still longed for him anyway. 

Virgil’s thumb brushed lower, tracing against Roman’s upper lip, another soft gasp slipping free at how tender it was, how soft. Roman didn't think anyone had ever touched him like this before, the male swallowing heavily, shivering at the contact. Such a simple, innocent enough touch, and people had touched his face before, plenty of times. None of them had ever felt like this, as though he was dying and being reborn in the same instance, an explosion of fireworks against his skin as he unconsciously leanied into it. 

His reaction only made Virgil smile once more, a more hungry, toothy smile, the wolf cornering his prey. Monochromatic eyes flickering down to stare at lips before lifting once more to meet Roman’s gaze, a dark promising gleaming within. 

“Join me, knight of my heart. Be my Right Hand.”

“I would... rather die,” Roman forced out, vision blurred a little by the tears that filled his eyes, his heart cracking into a thousand tiny little shards as yet again he chose duty over desire. How could be do anything else when this wasn’t really the man he had fallen in love with? Roman couldn’t lie to himself any longer, soulmate or no soulmate, he had fallen for Virgil - or the lie that had been presented. He was such a fool.

Virgil pulled back, an ugly snarl crossing his features. All pretense of softness, of kindness had vanished and while it still looked so foreign and unsettling on Virgil’s face he almost prefered it to the lie of kindness. At least then, it didn’t hurt so much inside. It was a different person and he could almost believe that. 

“So be it!” Virgil hissed, voice low and angry. His eyes flashed with a lighter shade of black than before, some dim, distant part of Roman wondering what colour that was, if his eyes were even purple at all or if it was just another thing that he had been lied to about. 

“Burn like the rest of these fools, burn in the fires that will rage forever as I claim this world. I am going to kill everyone you ever loved Sir Roman for this.” He lashed out, hand almost touching him as he gathered up air and magic, the force of it sending Roman flying through the air.

In the split second before he slammed against the wall, Roman couldn’t help but imagine how it would hurt, the pain that would blossom against his spin, how his head would almost certainly smack against it too, the crack and ringing pain that would steal his vision and breath. He tensed as best he could, his whole frame suddenly jolting to a halt, his eyes screwed tightly just against the onslaught of pain.

Pain, that aside from am ache in his neck from where his head had snapped back at the sudden stop, he wasn’t feeling. Slowly, Roman opened his eyes once more, glancing around him. He was suspended, a few inches from the wall, Virgil staring at him, arm outstretched with the same furious look on his face. No. It wasn’t the same, not really, there was something different about it, something that Roman couldn’t quite place.

Not that he was given time to, Virgil’s lip curling into another sneer and Roman felt the magic holding him suddenly vanish, his support dropping away just he does, his body tumbling the final few inches to the ground as though all his strings have been cut. All Roman could do was lie there, panting heavily and trying to make sense of it all, his mind reeling with heartbreak and confusion.

From his horizition position on the floor, he could still see Virgil, could see the way he pulled his hand back against his chest and glared down at it, almost as though the limb had somehow personally offended him. Without another word, Virgil spun on his heel and marched out, barely pausing to magically levitate Patton’s unconscious form into the air and drag it away behind him. The door to Roman’s cell swung closed with a resounding clang, an awful finality in that single sound. 

His head hurt, eyes burning with unshed tears and for a long, awful moment, Roman wanted to just give into all the pain and sorrow building up in him. He wanted to sob and scream and kick against the stones, against the bars. He wanted to let his heartbreak and rage explode out of him in equal measure. He wanted to cry until he was completely drained and slipped off into the escape that was an exhausted slumber. 

He didn't of course. He was still Sir Roman, a knight, sworn to be better than that. He wasn’t supposed to break down just because someone had played a dastardly trick on him. So he pushed it all down instead. Buried it as deeply as possibly could and locked the door in that room in his mind. He let the ice slip into his veins instead, let the numbness take him.

That had been hours ago and he still hadn’t moved from his spot against the cold stones, staring dully at the wall opposite him. Why hadn’t Virgil killed him? His attempt to seduce the information out of Roman hadn’t worked and there was no way he was going to get what he needed from the Knight so why was he keeping him alive at all? To torture him further? He had said he was going to hurt the people he cared about but without Roman’s information he couldn't seem to do that.

Maybe he hoped Roman would bend with time, would weaken and eventually give in, would allow his foolish, foolish heart to lead the way. His foolish heart which even now beat faster at the mere thought of Virgil. He would like to think that he would remain strong, would be able to say no again and again, and mean it. But would he? Or would be crumble like brittle glass and shatter at the offer of comfort and the arms of the man he loved?

Somewhere along the way, Logan had woken up, Roman able to hear movement as the normally unruffled man tried to pull himself together, the awkward way he climbed to his feet, his usual steady steps lacking the grace and purpose he had come to associate with the man. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the man as he leaned against the bars, a world weary look on his face. It was the expression of a man that had seen far more battles than anyone his age had any right to.

He attempted to talk to Roman, the knight simply ignoring him. Thankfully, it didn’t take Logan long to pick up on the not so subtle hints that he wasn’t going to get any conversation. The other man didn’t seem the chatty type anyway and Roman was almost grateful Patton wasn’t here. Patton would have never stopped talking until he had gotten a response and even then he would have chatted away, would have filled all the hours with words and Roman didn’t really think he could have taken that today. Even thinking about that however sent a wave of guilt crushing across his mind, stomach clenching uncomfortable and how could he have thought that, how could he have been grateful that Patton had been taken to be used as a puppet, dragged away to have God knows what happen to him?

Roman ignored the tiny voice that whispered perhaps Patton was completely in on it too, perhaps they all were. He didn’t think he could handle that, he was barely holding himself together as it was.

From his spot against the wall, he could see out the only window, watching as the sun crept across the sky. With nothing else to do but think his own depressing thoughts, he counted time, silently saying farewell to the sun and hello to the moon as it began its silver rayed journey across the sky.

Despite everything, he found himself... hoping. Hoping for what exactly, Roman didn’t quite know. But he found himself hoping all the same, breath catching in his throat at the sound of distant footsteps. He remained frozen to the spot, barely able to breath, just listening as whoever it was descended the stars at the other end of the room.

“Patton? Patton, I managed to make you some chocolate chip pancakes, I know they’re your favorite. I thought you could do with some cheering up.” 

Virgil’s voice broke through his thoughts and it was like a dam breaking in his mind, the ice vanishing under the rage that filled him. He was coming back down here? Coming down here and pretending that everything was the same as yesterday? Finally, Roman moved, brisky climbing to his feet and heading to the bars, a dark scowl on his face as he watched the servant come closer. He looked like the Virgil of old, dressed in his old servant outfit, a small and warm smile on his face. Walking in holding two trays of food as though everything was the same as before. 

“Logan?” Virgil tilted his head to stare at him, with what appeared like genuine surprise on his face at the sight of a different friend than the one he had apparently expected. Roman’s rage shifted into one of confusion. Virgil knew all this already. He knew full well that he had left Logan in here and taken Patton instead. Why was he persisting in prolonging the charade? Did he hope to drive Roman mad, to make him doubt everything until he no longer knew reality from fiction? The anger still blazed bright in his eyes though, the contempt he had for him - but, he had to hope not the pain, the heartbreak that was still a knife between his ribs. 

Virgil lifted his head away from Logan, mouth opening in question as he turned to face Roman. Jaw snapped back shut with an audible click as he took in the expression there, hunching back into his clothing as though physically struck by the anger. Roman knew he should have gained some satisfaction from that, some dark pleasure that at least it wasn’t _all_ going the other man’s way. Instead, he just felt another wave of deep tiredness, worn down by the whole situation. 

Understanding dawned in Virgil’s eyes, a deep sorrow there, something timeless. Something that reminded him uncomfortably of Logan’s expression from before. Despite everything, here was a young man who had seen more than his fair share of pain and it was wrong for Roman to wish he could have taken some of that on himself. Perhaps if he had found Virgil sooner, he could have turned him away from his life of darkness. As if in slow motion, the twin trays of pancakes slipped from his hands, small round treats tumbling to the ground, Virgil completely ignoring them. Slowly, he lifted a hand to his mouth, playing with his thumb before swallowing softly and speaking. 

“He... the Warlock spoke to you.”

“Yes,” Roman snapped, voice short and sharp. “You did.”

His tone made Virgil shrink even further back into himself, as though afraid of the knight and really, that was a ridiculous thing to even imagine. He had proven more than once that Roman was no match for him, that his magic was far more powerful than his brawn and unless he managed to sneak up on him, there was no way he was going to defeat him. There was absolutely no reason to be scared of him. Virgil lifted a hand, wrist twisting in a single, smooth motion. The door to Roman’s cell spung open at the unspoken command, a silent invitation for him to step out.

It seemed as though they were past the point of playing games at last.

Cautiously, Roman stepped out of his cell. It felt strange to move more than a few feet in any direction. Now he could move freely, could confront him just as he had always wanted. Roman suddenly felt a lot less sure of his actions, hands balling into fists as for the briefest of moments he found himself actually hating Virgil.

For making him feel this way in the first place, for making him doubt his path, his chosen course of action, his King. For making him feel bad about hating him. 

Virgil suddenly dropped down to the ground, curling into a little ball, his arms wrapped around his knees. He hardly looked like the arrogant, all powerful Warlock, Roman knew, the anger fading away no matter how much he tried to hold onto it in order to remain strong. It could be a trap. This had to be a trap. Any moment now he was going to jump up and laugh, was going to shift personality into that monster from the morning.

“Kill me,” Virgil whispered, head still bowed and staring at the ground. “I’m the Warlock, you saw it yourself. I’m going to hurt people, so just... just get on with it.”

“No!” Logan’s scream cut through the air, Roman jumping a little, and he had forgotten the other man was still there. He shook against the bars of his still locked cell, trying to force his way out. Roman had only seen this level of emotion from him when he had begged the Warlock - Virgil, he had to remember that, had to keep reminding himself of that - to not take Patton. That emotion had been real, unguarded. It was too raw to be a mere act, especially considering how poorly the man showed his emotions the rest of the time.

“Don’t you touch him! Virgil, Virgil, let me out, please, don’t do this!” Logan pleaded, the calm exterior completely shattered. It made Roman’s heart hurt in a completely different way than before, the doubts from earlier now pressing heavily against him, flea bites shifting into something clawed and fought its way to the surface. Logan’s attention suddenly shifted to Roman, eyes wide and pleading. “Please, you don’t know the full story Roman.”

“No...” Roman murmured softly, attention shifting back to the crouching boy in front of him. Slowly, Roman dropped to his knees as well, still watching the shorter man carefully, half expecting it to actually turn out to be a trap after all. His hands were bunched up in his sleeves, the dark fabric covering them tightly but he could still the way they were curled up into tight fists, the way he trembled and shook. “I’m starting to suspect I don’t.”

Carefully Roman reached out, his hand clasping the fabric over one of those fists, movement slow and gentle. Virgil sucked in a painfully deep breath at the touch, whole body flinching as though the gentle touch had been a body breaking blow. It made Roman feel brave of all things, the doubts a raging fire in his mind as he offered the shaking boy’s bowed head a smile.

“Tell me?” 

Virgil looked up, shock on his face before glancing away again. He trembled a little, tongue flicking out to wet his lips but Roman could wait. He didn’t know exactly what was going on but he was going to take a chance. Take a leap. He was going to trust Virgil to at least hear his side of this story, even though he couldn’t imagine what it could be that would explain all of this. 

“I... I’m an unregistered mage. Obviously.” Virgil gave a soft little huff of laughter, something dark and unamused, the same sound he had made when he had spoken of the Warlock the night before - had it really only been the night before? He drew in another breath, eyes darting around the room as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Roman’s gaze.

“My... my mother was one too. She taught me how to hide it, how to fool the tests, how to bury my powers as deep as I could unless it was absolutely safe to use them. She told me again and again, never to trust anyone with my secret, that people would be scared, that they feared what they didn’t understand. I promised her I would never tell. I swore I would keep it a secret, even from my two closest friends. My only friends.”

“Patton and I always knew Virgil was different.” Logan’s voice broke into the conversation, Roman tilting his head ever so slightly to indicate he was listening although he never took his eyes off Virgil, drinking in the sight. “I suspected magic of course, but Virgil would never tell us. Eventually, he used it in front of us, to save us, a tale for another time.”

“And they still loved me.” Virgil picked up the conversation where Logan had dropped it after a short pause, a note of wonder in his voice, his gaze turned inward as he remembered those days. “They still thought that I was... worthy. That I wasn’t a freak, that I wasn't wrong for being different. For a while things were even good. I should have known it was too good to last because then one day, I made a new friend. I thought... I thought after a while, it would be safe to tell her too.”

“But it wasn't?” Roman asked, a feeling of dread build up in his chest. Virgil gave another soft huff of a laugh, shaking his head slightly, his fringe falling over his eyes once more. Roman didn’t like where this story was going.

“No, no it wasn’t. She was good, I have to admit. She played me like a violin and I was so pathetic and weak and... jealous. I fell for everything she said, so when she asked me to meet her somewhere alone without telling Logan or Patton, I believed her. She... she _sold_ me. There was a group, looking to bring their dead leader back but they needed a vessel to hold him. They needed a body, preferably one that already had magic. They had a ritual, it would being their leader back, his spirit would take over my body and my soul would be cast into oblivion. I would die and someone else would get up and walk around in my place, in my body.”

Virgil swallowed heavily a couple of times, his words becoming increasingly strained and harder to say, as through having to physically push through the memory of those moments. Roman didn’t know what to say - or even think. He couldn’t imagine how Virgil must have felt in those moments, how terrified he would have been, how he thought he was going to die in such a cruel, awful manner. If this was the truth of course. There was a long silence as Roman struggled to understand what he was hearing, if he could believe him. He wanted to, he wanted so badly to believe him and it wasn’t outside the realms of possibility. He had heard of such spells in the past, cursed, forbidden magic. Could he believe that it had happened to Virgil? That he hadn’t wanted to hurt Roman? If that had been the spell though, then how could Virgil be here at all?

“What went wrong? I mean, right. No, I mean.” Roman paused for breath, gritting his teeth together in frustration, his mind spinning wildly and no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t seem to grab the right words to say what he wanted to say. 

Virgil peered up through the bangs in his hair, a weak smile on his face.

“Patton. And Logan,” he told him softly, understanding the question that hadn’t been asked. “They saved me although there are times when I wish they hadn't. They had never liked my new friend, I should have listened but I... I was selfish and I wanted more than I had. They followed even though I treated them appallingly and then they just burst into the room and disrupted the ritual before it was complete. They could have been killed.” Virgil shifted slightly as he spoke, for the first time directly addressing the other man still behind bars. 

“We understood the risks going in Virgil, we were hardly going to leave you to be consumed by that monster. Patton loves you dearly and I have to admit, current situation aside, I am rather fond of you as well.” Logan lifted a hand to adjust his glasses, once again cool and collected, as if neither outburst had actually happened. Roman had a sneaking suspicion he would deny them if questioned as well, almost as though he believed showing fear and concern for a loved one would somehow make him less.

“Love you too Nerd,” Virgil replied, that same weak smile lingering on his lips, Roman’s eyes drawn more and more to the expression, to lips that had become only more tempting as time passed. The smile faded after a couple of moments, Virgil giving a violent tremor, his voice growing even softer as he forced himself to carry on. “They managed to interrupt the ritual, they stopped the cult from bringing their leader back... well, they sort of stopped it. They stopped my own soul being consumed by the ritual and he makes them pay for it every single day. We share my body, he gets the daytime, I get the night. Like I'm some... some... building with joint tenants, and there is nothing I can do to stop him.” 

Virgil pulled away from Roman, tearing himself out of the half hold they had fallen into and refusing to allow himself the comfort any longer. He roughly hauled himself to his feet, pacing rapidly against the other end of the room, his hands lifting to tug frantically at his hair.

“The worst... the worst thing is half the time I don't know what's happening. It's as though I black out and when I wake up I'm somewhere else. In different clothes and if I’m lucky, there isn’t any blood on me...” he shook his head sharply, hands curling even tighter in his hair.

“No. The worst, worst thing, is he knows how to make me watch, powerless behind my own eyes as he hurts people. As he hurts Patton and Logan. He can pull up my mind any time he wants, he can show me any moment of the life he’s stolen from me. Just to make me hurt, to make me give in so I stop fighting and he can gain control of this body all of the time. But I won’t.” Voice suddenly shifted to a savage growl, the last three words full of fire and fury. He looked positively _breathtaking_ like this, a fierce animal willing to do anything to protect who he loved and Roman knew he shouldn’t find Virgil angry and in pain attractive and yet - well, honestly, he thought he would have found anything beautiful, amazing, wonderful, if it was connected to Virgil.

He looked nothing like the angry but cold monster that had glared with his face but not his lips, not his eyes. He looked identical and yet completely different as he stalked back to face Roman, the knight automatically scrambling to his own feet so they were standing face to face. Virgil lifted a hand, pale fingers slipping out from dark clothing to jab one firmly against Roman’s chest, his self righteous anger still burning bright.

“I won’t leave them alone with him.”

Oh, he **loved** this man.

Problems and all. A supernatural spirit having possession of your body for half of the time was a slightly big problem sure but one Roman was sure they could overcome together. It didn't matter that they weren't soulmates, he still loved him and it was possible to love without that connection. He knew plenty of people who had never met their soulmates but didn't care because they had found a different love that they considered just as good.

Before this, Roman had never understood that point of view, has never been able to wrap his mind around the idea that someone could be happy like that. He had always privately considered those who lived like that as having settled instead of striving and searching for that True Love waiting for you somewhere. Before he would have nodded and smiled and been outwardly supportive to those people, while inwardly pitying them. 

Before, he had been a bit of an idiot.

Because now, if he had to choose between the apparent wonder of colour or the slightly shorter man currently glaring at him and still pressing his finger against his chest, he would pick his little lightning storm cloud in an instant. Every time, no matter what, no matter how many Warlock’s popped up to try and block their happiness. 

He vowed to himself to make Virgil happy each and every day, for as long as the other man allowed him to of course. Now and forever, and even after he had somehow worked out a way to save his love from the Warlock. He would as well. Somehow, he was going to save him, the belief blossoming stronger within him with every second that passed and they continued to stand like this.

Virgil was no longer actively prodding him with his finger but neither had he pulled away, simply staring up at his face, a flush of darker colouring across his cheeks. A blush. He was making Virgil blush, his heart growing giddy at the thought, the hope of what that might mean. It gave him the courage to do something about the finger against him, that burning point of contact. Roman reached out, hand tentatively clasping around the one on his chest, warm fingers entwining with Virgil's cooler ones.

And the world _**exploded.**_

Everything was suddenly too bright and sharp, Roman screwing his eyes shut and flinching away, as though a wave of sound and light had rolled through his mind, pushing every other thought away. His head was ringing with the strange noise, something between a screech and a scream, something otherworldly and new. 

In front of him, he heard Virgil give a yelp of surprise, his whole body jumping slightly. Without thinking, Roman tightened his hold on the other man’s hand, keeping him close. After a moment, his brain finally caught up with his movements, with what he had done, how he had held Virgil when the other man had seemed to want to pull away but Virgil was already sagging towards him, his head rocking forward to rest against against his chest, almost directly above his heart. It was amazing he couldn’t hear the organ with how loud and fast it seemed to be pounding away in his chest, screaming at the contact.

Gingerly, Roman lifted his other arm and slowly wrapped it around Virgil, hugging him loosely, his eyes still shut against... whatever that had been. Nothing else seemed to happen, the sound sound their breathing and beyond that, the gentle sounds of Logan as he stood and watched them. With a deep breath, unsure of what he was going to see, he slowly opened his eyes once more. 

At first, he couldn't tell what had changed, Roman squinting as he looked around the dungeon. Everything was shining, was bright too bright and he blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision and see what was going on. The dungeon looked much the same as ever, bar a slight gleam on the bars, a lighter glimmer to them. 

Roman frowned, staring down at Virgil’s hair. The longer he stared, the more obvious it became that something had happened, something strange. Where before, he had seen a dark head with dark hair, a lighter shade than pure black sure but still dark, now he saw... something else. There was a variation there, something his eyes struggled to understand, something his mind certainly couldn’t put into words. It was as though dark was no longer enough for it, as though he was looking at something new and his brain had yet to catch up with the party. He turned his head, glancing to the side, into his old cell and at the straw that could charitably be called a bed. 

It had a colour.

Something bright and dazzling, a sickly slab of something that was neither black, nor white, nor any of the various shades of grey he was used to seeing in between. Breath hitched in his throat, Roman’s gaze returning to the man he was still holding, that hair that he now realised was a brilliant display of colour, various shades against the monochrome that had previously been his reality. 

He could see _colour_. But that... that meant...

“Vir... Virgil?” It came out more as a question than Roman had intended, voice a high pitched squeak but he felt as though he was going mad. As if everything was changing yet again on him and the world was spinning too fast for him to keep up. He needed Virgil to talk to him, to look at him, he needed to know he wasn’t the only one who suddenly saw things in a completely different light. He needed to know he wasn’t going mad. Virgil shuddered and slowly looked up, eyes tentatively opening, wet and ringed with tears. 

His eyes. 

Roman felt his own growing wide as he stared down at him, stared down at what had to be...

“Purple...” he murmured and it was hardly the declaration of undying love that he had planned to give or the promise that they were going to find a way out of this, that he was going to come up with a way to save them all. All he could think however was that while he might have only been able to see colours for a few moments, none of them were ever going to be as beautiful as the deep shade of purple that practically glowed in Virgil’s eyes. 

For a moment, the reality of what was outside this room was forgotten, Roman feeling a stupidly large smile stretch across his face and his cheeks were aching from how wide his smile had gotten but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Virgil was his soulmate, and together, there was nothing they couldn’t face. The sight of a matching smile on Virgil’s face only added to his joy, brief though it was. 

“No...” Virgil whispered softly, smile vanishing from his face as though something had interrupted his thoughts. Horror quickly dawned in its place, sheer, abject horror, staring deeply into eyes that terrified him beyond measure. “No, no, no, please, no!”

Roman thought he had felt heartbreak before when he had seen Virgil be his villain.

That pain was nothing compared to this, to his _soulmate_ staring at him in horror, in disgust at the idea that they belonged together.

“I don't understand,” Roman said plaintively, for a moment unsure what he was actually asking. He had seen Virgil’s eyes, he had seen the love, the joy that had appeared there. His storm cloud had wanted this too, as brief and as beautiful as that moment had been. So why was he in so much pain now? How could Roman slay whatever it was that was hurting him, when he didn’t know what it was - or rather he did, he knew it all tied back to the Warlock, the one being he couldn’t touch because no matter what spirit was in control, it was still Virgil’s body.

Not to mention, how could this be possible at all? As glorious as it was, it didn’t make any sense. Roman lifted his head to stare at Logan, remembering from all the tales of their childhood that he was the smart one, the logical one. He had probably read more books than the other three put together. If anybody could explain what was going on, it would be him, Roman clinging to that hope with an almost childlike faith.

“We - he touched before. Our skin met skin, why didn't I see colour then?” 

Logan frowned thoughtfully, crossing his arms as he considered the problem. His eyes darted from side to side as though he was internally recalling a book he had read, considering the question carefully. Virgil gave another whimper, his arms wrapped tightly around himself. Roman ached to gather him up in his arms and kiss all his pain away, to whisper promises that nobody was going to ever hurt him again. Except he couldn't promise that, not when the sun would break over the horizon at dawn and Virgil would be submerged under the evil of the Warlock once more.

“Hmm, this is of course a highly unusual situation and without any reference books to see if such a situation has happened in the past, I am of course merely... speculating.” A faint grimace passed across his face, as though the mere word had caused him discomfort. “However, with that being said. I would hypothesize that you touched Virgil’s body with the Warlock in control correct? It isn't bodymates, it’s soulmates. Virgil’s soul was not in full possession of his body at the moment of contact and thus the connection was not established.” 

“No, you can’t be my soulmate,” Virgil cried, tears gathering in eyes that were still the most beautiful shade of any colour that he ever seen, some part of him feeling weak at the knees at the sight.

He would go to the ends of the world for this man.

“Hey is that so bad?” Roman asked softly, fighting to keep the hurt out of his voice. For all the countless times he had imagined this moment, the person in front of him, the way it would play out, the situation, he had never once considered the possibility that his soulmate might not want him. Who would be crazy enough not to want the amazing Sir Roman? But then it was Virgil and he was suddenly very much aware of how lacking he was, how... lesser he was. And how the other man deserved so much better but he was selfish enough to want it to still be him. “Or do you really hate the idea of it being me so very much?”

“Don't be such an idiot, you idiot!” Virgil lifted a hand to swipe roughly at his eyes, Roman following the movement and drinking in all the various colours he could see, shades he didn’t know the name for but was excited to find out. The darkness under his love’s eyes was still there, still black, just as there was black on most of the clothing he was wearing. There were other colours dotted around Virgil’s clothing, colours he didn’t understand. Roman knew logically, that the grass was green, the sky was blue. He had pointed to so many things in his life and demanded to know their colour so that when the time finally came, he would be ready. But none of that helped when he couldn’t compare it against whatever pattern was on Virgil’s cloak, large patches mixing with even larger areas of black.

Now that he could see colours, Roman didn’t understand why anyone would chose to dress in black or white, why they would want to waste precious space on something they could always see instead of enjoying all the colours on offer. The fact that Virgil probably didn’t have a choice in what he was wearing was sobering, Roman swallowing softly while the other carried on glaring - he still hadn’t pulled away from the hold though, still hadn’t broken away and perhaps he wasn’t completely disgusted after all.

Virgil shook his head in frustration, teeth gritted tightly together, his jaw tense. Roman was struck by the totally rational and almost overwhelming urge to just kiss that stress away. With a great effort, he pushed that urge away, letting him work through whatever was worrying him. He had to let him say it so he could fix it.

“He’s going to hurt you!” Virgil cried out at last. 

It was as though Roman had plunged head first into a lake filled with ice, the chill washing away every little feeling of joy that this moment had brought him, destroying the sheer bliss of having found his soulmate and it being Virgil, wonderful, wonderful Virgil. He understood for perhaps the first time what it was truly like to be Logan or Patton, to be faced with someone who held the life and safety of your world in their hands, someone who would not hesitate to use that power over you for their own selfish ends.

“No, it’s worse than that,” Roman replied, unable to resist touching even now. His fingers laced through Virgil’s drawing selfish strength at the contact, the warmth that flared within him, melting away the fear and he was selfish but right now he was going to take this no matter how much it might hurt in the future. The fact that Virgil leaned into the touch, seeking it out too only highented that joy and Roman wished he didn’t have to keep talking, wished he could just make all of this go away. Glowing eyes were looking at him though, guarded but inquisitive, unsure of how things could possibly be worse than he already thought.

“He’s going to hurt _you_.”

\---

The night passed slowly and yet at the same time it was as though it had zoomed past in the blink of an eye. Roman spent it learning the colours that went with their names, pointing at almost everything and having Logan say what it was, almost like he was a child. He would have been embarrassed expect he could tell that Virgil wanted to know too, the eager way his eyes had followed each and every point. His love had seemed far too shy to ask himself, and Roman was more than willing to do it for him. He might not understand why Virgil didn’t feel comfortable asking his best friend Logan these questions himself but right now Roman didn’t need to get why, to know that he was going to do whatever it took to make him happy.

He cataloged each tiny shift in Virgil’s eyes, each glow and dim, all the various little shades of purple that shone in breathtaking eyes. 

“I should go,” Virgil murmured at last, regret colouring his words. “It’s almost daybreak, you know what that means...” 

Roman did. He knew who would come, and he knew there would be hell to pay when the Warlock realised he could suddenly see colour. It wouldn’t take him long to work out that there was only one person Virgil could have really touched, one only person who could be his soulmate. Roman shook his head, dripping Virgil’s sleeve lightly, enough to stop him but not enough to hold him if he really wanted to pull away. Roman was never going to hold him against his will.

“He’s just going to come back down here, you know he will. He will want answers.”

“So I should go upstairs and get away from you and give you an added minute away from him,” Virgil replied with a slight smirk, masking the fear and Roman knew this too, remembered only too well how he hid his terror behind this behaviour. His storm cloud was so brave but he didn’t have to face this alone anymore. He shouldn’t. There was very little that Roman could do to help right now, he had been racking his brains all night in between the colour lessons but he could do this. He could stand beside his man to the bitter end. 

“No, you should stay, so you’re not alone when it happens. He is coming and I don’t want to miss a single second with you.”

“Fine, you utter sap,” Virgil said after a pause, managing a small smile. The expression crumpled away like a brittle leaf, fear replacing it, the fear of what was coming, the fear that he couldn’t control, couldn’t do anything about. The Warlock was coming no matter what he wanted or did. The Warlock was coming and everyone was going to suffer because of it. He was going to lose Virgil till the sun set again. Virgil was going to lose _himself_ and there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop it. Roman acted without thinking, stepping close and drawing him back into a hug, Virgil willingly melting into the embrace, head buried against Roman, the taller resting his chin on the top of his head. 

I... I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m so, so, so sorry,” he whispered, words almost swallowed up by Roman’s chest. Roman closed his eyes, biting down the response that wanted to slip out, the lie that everything was going to be fine because how could it be? How could anything be fine when Virgil had to endure this, day in and day out? 

Virgil suddenly pulled away with a yell, hand lifting to his hair. He doubled over with another scream of agony, his other arm going to clutch at his stomach. Once again, Roman reacted on instinct, stepping forward to do - something. Anything. 

“Don’t!” Logan cautioned, his word slamming into Roman as though he had physically grabbed him. “It’s worse for Virgil if you try and stop it... believe me.”

Roman believed him. The pain in the other man’s voice was too real for him not to believe and he had promised himself he would stand by Virgil, that he wouldn’t abandon him, wouldn’t make things worse for him. So Roman forced himself to simply stand there, he watched without flinching because it was such a small thing, but it was something he could do. He could watch his love die for a day so at least he wasn’t alone.

After what felt like an eternity, the shaking and screams stopped, Virgil stretched out his arms to stare at them, a thoughtful hum slipping out. Roman held his breath, waiting for the anger, the confusion. It never came.

“Finally,” Virgil said - no, the Warlock, even if he hadn’t actually witnessed the transformation first hand, Roman would have been able to tell the difference between the two personalities apart now. How stupid he had been to ever believe his sweet yet sarcastic Virgil could have ever been this cold or cruel. The way he held himself once more and Roman hadn’t been imagining it when he had thought that the other being was completely different, completely wrong. He would never make that mistake again.

The Warlock glanced around, apparently unfazed by the influx of colour between one waking moment and the next, rolling his neck and listening to the sound the bones made as they popped before his cold eyes fixed on Roman. 

“I thought you two were never going to connect, I didn’t know how much more of that I could take. How hard is it to touch a servant boy Sir Roman, honestly.”

“Wait... you knew?” It wasn’t the most important thing to be asking and yet at the same time it felt like the most important thing, and Roman could feel understanding dawning on him like a great wave in the distance. It echoed along the sea to him, too far away for Roman to see yet but he could feel it getting closer and closer by the second. He was going to drown when it hit him, he knew it. 

The Warlock rolled his eyes, that same damning smirk on his face, the one Roman wanted to both punch and kiss away. The one that would have looked perfect if it had been with shining eyes and a soul he loves. The man leaned close, not even bothered to restrain him with magic, even going so far as to tap him lightly on the nose. He knew there was nothing Roman would do to harm this body. 

“Yes, because I’m not a complete moron unlike the pair of you. It was sickening, having to hear Logan’s report every morning as what my body had been up to while I was sleeping, how it danced around the subject instead of just touching.”

“That isn't your body!” Roman’s hands curled into fists, his fingernails digging deep into his palms, tiny pinpricks of pain across him. 

“Minor details,” he said with a scoff, the Warlock lifting a hand to dismiss the idea. “It’s my body half of the time and it should have been my body the whole time. Although, in a way, those fools did me a favour by stopping the ritual.”

“How so?” 

The Warlock smiled and in that smile he could see the wave growing close, the faux concern that was etched on his features something dangerous, to be feared. 

“Why, it gave me chance to find you of course. My sweet, sweet Roman.” He lifted a hand to brush against Roman’s cheek, making a clicking sound of disapproval with his tongue when Roman automatically pulled away but otherwise made no move to punish him. His apparent mercy set the knight even more on edge, waiting for the wave, able to hear it almost crashing about his head. 

“You have a choice. You can be my little pet knight, and I will grant you access to your pathetic little soulmate during the nighttime hours if you are a good boy.... Or, you can say no again and every night I will make you watch one of his friends torture him. Hour after hour, injury after injury. I won’t feel it and come the morning it will be child's play to remove the wounds. A fresh canvas for them to create my kind of art on. Imagine it Roman, the screams, both inward and out. The scent of blood split across the room. I already torture him when I play with those he calls friends, how much worse for him do you think it will be to have to watch them be twisted and bent into hurting him?”

The wave hit, sending him mentally reeling, knocked to the ground. He had expected it in some way, had known the beast would use this newly found connection between them to his advantage, would claim the knowledge locked away inside of Roman’s mind. He just hadn’t realised that the Warlock had been waiting for this moment, had been counting on it in fact. He had known they were soulmates long before they had touched it seemed. And this whole thing had just been to form a connection between them, a bond on top of the soulmate one, something he could use to bind Roman to him. 

The monster twisted his fingers, a golden bracelet adorned with rubies, gems scattered across it. It was beautiful, a work of art and for the first time Roman could appreciate all the colour, the detailed work that had gone into it. Or, he could have, once upon a time, if he wasn’t starting at it and thinking only how much he hated it, how he hated this foul being that took such delight in hurting others for sport and pleasure.

“It really brings out your eyes,” The Warlock told him with a sly smirk. “Put it on, embrace a life of servitude. Or witness your precious little soulmate reach new levels of agony. Your choice.”

Choice.

As though it was a choice, as though there was any choice to be made. Roman knew what his answer was and what was more, he knew the fiend knew as well. What else could he do? Roman had sacrificed so much in his life and finally he had found something - someone - that he couldn’t turn his back on, someone Roman wouldn’t give up for the needs of the many, for his duty or even his King. He bit down on his lip, so hard it drew blood, the coppery tang tasting foul in his mouth but at least it helped to ground him in the moment, reminded him that this was real. Roman swallowed away the metallic tang, before reaching out to take the offered object.

It felt cool against his skin as he fastened it around his wrist, cool and heavy. Roman didn’t need to see any chains attached to it to recognize it for what it was - a sign of who he belonged to.

“That’s better. But I think a little... demonstration of your loyalty is in order hmmm?” His smile was sickly sweet, something you could drown in, Roman resisting the urge to shiver in fear at whatever the Warlock had planned. With a click of his fingers the walls of the dungeon dissolved around them, the large throne room shimmering into place instead. With the discovery of colour, he could see how grand it truly was, 

The sick feeling in his stomach increased as he glanced around, seeing Patton standing a few feet away, an unnaturally blank look in eyes he knew should be expressive. The demon in Virgil’s body took a few steps away from him, turning to stand at the foot of the stairs to the throne. 

“Kneel before your King,” hissed the Warlock, his smile growing more triumphant, more smug by the second.

Slowly, Roman followed him, each step slow and painful until he was stood in front of him once more. He barely hesitated before he dropped down to one knee, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He didn't know what else to do, couldn't think, couldn't focus. He didn't see any way out of this, any other choice, no matter how bitter the thought was. With deliberate slowness, the Warlock extended an arm, offering his hand to be kissed. Yet another humiliation, the Warlock rubbing salt into an already tender wound. Another indignity that Roman knew he would have to take, the male closing his eyes for a moment before he spoke. 

“My liege lord,” he spat out, words tasting foul and unnatural in his mouth. But he meant them all the same, shifting a little to brush his lips against the monster’s knuckles, swearing his loyalty in word and touch.


	3. A Worthy End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, we finally made it to the end you guys. I just want to say I have been blown away by all the wonderful and amazing comments you have left me letting me know how you feel about this story. 
> 
> It’s very much been a labour of love for me and I could have gone on for chapters more in this world but deadlines must come. It probably works better being as contained as it is. 
> 
> I just want to thank again @Listernerofshadows who really came through and beta-ed the last chapter in a matter of hours after I sent it to her so close to the deadline. And to @flooftheriver for supporting me the whole time [but doing a terrible job of keeping me from getting side tracked, love ya flo ;)]
> 
> Thank you for being here to read this and I really hope you enjoy this final part, leave me some kudos and comments if you do!

** A Worthy End. **

The room he found himself in was a far cry from the dungeon. It was filled with rich fabric and soft furnishings, a rich four poster bed piled high with pillows and blankets. It looked so soft, so tempting and Roman almost wanted to cry at the mere sight of it. His entire body ached from the many hours spent sleeping on a hard stone floor with only a little staw to try and cushion himself and now suddenly he was standing in front of the most decadent bed he had ever seen in his life - and he spent many happy hours chatting with King Thomas in the other man’s bedroom. Part of Roman would have liked nothing better than to simply topple forward into that bed and let himself sink into the comfort it offered, to simply sleep some of the pain away.

As much as he wanted that however, Roman couldn’t allow himself even one single moment to relax, not when there was so much he had to do. He had to somehow escape this room, had to explore the castle and start to learn the layout. He had to be prepared to defend himself if anything other than the Warlock or Patton roamed the halls.

No matter how hard he looked, there was nothing deadly in the room, nothing he could turn into a weapon. Even the candlestick holders had been removed, the candles themselves floating in little magical bubbles, giving him light while denying him anything heavy or reassuring. Short of tossing a pillow, there was nothing he could throw. The chair in front of the dressing table was bolted to the floor to protect him from moving it - for that matter, so was the table itself and even the bed. There was a hairbrush resting against the mirror, and for a brief moment Roman considered throwing it at the door just to make himself feel better. No matter how childish it might seem. 

He swallowed down the urge for the moment and returned to the task at hand, finding a way out of the room. The window didn’t open. No matter how hard he rattle against the large, person sized window, it remained firmly closed. Bar bodily tossing himself through it, and then tumbling the huge drop below, the window was useless. The door was locked too, handle bound by magic, and even putting his hand near it had caused a faint electric shock to his system, making him hiss in pain. Roman had to admit it, the Warlock certainly knew what he was doing when it came to holding someone prisoner. 

For all the luxury within, for all the comfort, it was still no better than a cell, albeit one of his own choosing. 

Roman looked down, a grimace of distaste crossing his features as he took in the clothes he had been given. The Warlock had insisted on him having a bath and only the threat of making Patton physically hold him down had convinced him he was better off doing as he was told. To his relief - and great surprise - the Warlock even left him alone to do it, a casual remark that Patton would wait outside and bring him to him when he was needed when done. He spent a long time in the hot water, partly to let it ease aching muscles but also to try and pass the time as best as possible and delay the conversations that were surely waiting for him. As he washed himself slowly, he did his best to avoid looking at the bracelet still firmly attached to his wrist, the only thing he had been unable to remove. 

When Roman had eventually come out, it had been to find his own clothes had vanished. New ones were folded neatly in their place, a set of jet black trousers, with a matching tunic, red thread picking out all the elaborate details, the gold buttons shining brightly against the black. There was a ruby red sash attached, just like his old uniform and Roman didn't miss the point of it. He could see how similar it was, a perversion of everything he had originally held dear. The Warlock really knew how to twist the knife deeper at every opportunity.

It fitted him perfectly and he hated how good he looked in it, brooding as he stared into the full length mirror. It showed him off beautifully, the contrast of dark and rich colours working perfectly together, Roman absently brushing down the front of his top, feeling the softness of the fabric, the sheer quality of it. Every little detail was correct, every little quirk and design that had been on his real uniform was present in some way in this one. 

There was even a sheath for a sword on his new belt, although the weapon itself was conspicuous in its absence. He gave himself a deeper, harder look, attention drawn to the slash of red that cut through the darkness, the boldness, the brightness of the shade. He hated it. He hated the colour red. More than that, he hated the thought that drifted across his mind despite his best efforts. 

The red really did bring out the colour of his eyes.

In the end, there was nothing else he could do to put off the inevitable, Roman swallowing heavily and exiting the bathroom. He had expected Patton to take him back to the Warlock, for the spirit to have some new and cruel game for him to have to take part in. Patton had led him to ornate bedroom instead, his voice dull and expressionless as he explained that this was to be Roman’s room, where he was to stay when he wasn’t on duty - before promptly locking him in the room and leaving Roman alone with his thoughts. 

The sun had long since set since then, anticipation and nerves building up in him with each second that passed and he was still alone. What if Virgil didn’t come? What if he couldn’t come, if the Warlock had done something to him to stop him? What if he blamed himself for it and thought Roman wouldn’t want to see him? Roman didn’t blame the strings of fate or his feelings for the other man at all, it wasn’t Virgil’s fault that the Warlock was going to use it against them. Roman still felt utterly blessed to have been given the chance to know him, and hopefully one day to love him freely. Worse, what if Virgil didn’t _want_ to come, if he was so angry at Roman for giving into the Warlock and accepting the new chains that came with loving him. 

Surely Virgil would understand. He had done the same after all. Surely he would realise that Roman couldn’t have acted any other way, that to resist would have caused Virgil and thus Roman more pain than even he felt as though he could handle. 

The sound of running feet had Roman spinning on his heel away from the large window he had been staring sightlessly out of, watching as the door burst open with a magical crack, Virgil almost stumbling through it. Virgil’s head snapped to the side to stare at the half destroyed door as he passed it, the once magically sealed wood now bend and cracked, the bottom hinges broken clean off the door. Purple eyes were filled with worry, with warmth, something that could only mean one thing.

It was Virgil. _His_ Virgil. 

Virgil crossed the distance between them in a flash, hands lifting to cup Roman’s face. Movements were jerky, clumsy, Virgil half slapping his cheeks as he frantically touched, searching for any hint of of bruising or sign that he had been injured, Roman feeling a brand new rush of warmth for this man at his obvious concern. Every time he thought it wasn’t possible to love Virgil anymore than he already did, the other said or did something else to make him fall further. Satisfied that Roman was indeed still in one piece, Virgil took a step back, that concern shifting to one of anger. 

“You utter moron!” 

While expected, Roman couldn’t help but feel a twinge of anger himself, that Virgil didn’t seem to realise how hard - how easy - it had been to make the decision. He acted as though Roman was stupid to have picked him, as though he didn’t realise how important he actually was to him. He acted as though he hadn’t done the exact same thing. 

“I had no choice in the matter!”

“There is _always_ a choice,” Virgil hissed. He sighed and looked away, shoulders dropping as all the anger faded out of him. “We say there is no choice to comfort ourselves once the choice has already been made. I chose every day to keep on living even though I know the only way out for them is to... is to...”

“Stop.” Roman could feel a lump forming in his throat, something heavy and choking. Anger at Virgil being angry at him in turn faded away as he realised how it had been guilt talking and nothing else. Of course he would blame himself for all of this when really the only one to blame was the Warlock himself. It was he who tortured them every day, it was he who planted such thoughts in his Virgil’s mind, who made him hate himself that badly. “That isn’t a choice Virgil, you hear me? You have to keep going.”

“Why did you do it?” Virgil murmured voice broken and weak, as though he hadn’t even heard Roman’s words of comfort. He lifted a hand to his face, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. He no longer seemed angry but upset instead, lost in the swirl of emotion and the world that had completely changed on him in between one moment of awareness and the next. “Now we are both trapped.”

Roman smiled softly and gripped him by the shoulders, willing him to look up at him. After a couple of moments, clearly afraid of what he might see in the others eyes, Virgil lifted his head a little, peering up at him through eyelashes that were so long they might as well be criminal. It wasn’t fair that someone so beautiful be forced to suffer so much. In spite of that, Roman could feel his smile growing, something shy and bashful in his expression as he leaned forward to brush a gentle kiss against Virgil’s forehead. 

“But at least I am trapped with you.”

\--

The days passed too slowly, and the nights far too fast. The Warlock insisted on Roman following him around like a trained puppy most of the time, always at his heels, responding to every beck and call. He had little choice - there was always a choice, always the temptation lurking in the back of his mind that he could say no, could refuse at any time but he knew the consequence of such an action. He knew what would happen. Virgil was right, it was easier to tell himself he had no choice, to hide behind that.

So long as he swallowed his pride, so long as he danced attendant to every little whim and fancy that might cross the Warlock’s mind then he was rewarded at night with his love and as pathetic and as selfish as it might make him, it was worth it for those precious hours. He learnt so much about Virgil in that time, shared so much back and he was hopelessly enamoured by the other man, by his bravery and courage.

There had been some nights when he had been refused Virgil completely. Those were the worse. It wasn’t even him that was locked away, because it hadn’t taken long for his captor to realise that Virgil would break through any lock to find Roman again. Plus, it wasn’t nearly as much fun to punish them like that. It was far more entertaining it seemed to lock Virgil in magic nullifying cuffs, to trap him alone in a series of rooms where the only entrance was blocked by Patton on unrelenting guard duty.

Those nights made Roman hate the Warlock all the more, knowing that this punishment was far more painful, that he was denying Virgil even his night of freedom. It hurt Roman far worse than if he had merely been confined to a room - which, of course, he knew, was the exact reason why the Warlock did it. It certainly inspired Roman to behave better, broke down some of his rebellious spirit and made him more wary about taking risks. Roman used those nights to learn as much as he could about the castle, to visit Logan and make he was still alright. 

Nights always passed so rapidly when he was with Virgil, half of them lost to sleep because no matter how hard Roman tried to stay awake, eventually his body needed sleep. He had collapsed once during the day, the memory of the Warlock’s fury still making him shiver in honest fear. Not for himself, but for Virgil. 

It was the only time he had carried through on his threat and now everytime Roman closed his eyes he could hear his love’s screams, the sight of him held down, Roman struggling helplessly against the metal cuffs that stopped him from protecting as his heart shattered yet again. He could see it so clearly and so he knew better now than to fall asleep during the day and deprive the Warlock of his ‘fun’.

Only in the arms of Virgil could he find any sort of peace, the dark haired man murmuring soft words of comfort, of reassurance to lull him into sleep, the promise that he would spend every second he had curled up with him, watching over him. It wasn’t wasted time, he promised, when it was with him, even if Roman was sleeping.

Sometimes, Roman couldn’t help but wonder why the monster didn’t just reach inside his mind and take control of it like he had done to Logan and Patton. Perhaps he simply lacked the power to hold more than one person like a puppet at a time. Or perhaps he simply found more enjoyment in letting Roman think, move and speak as he wanted, knowing full well that he wouldn’t misbehave because he had Virgil locked away in the most secure prison possible. He flexed his muscles once or twice to show that he wasn’t afraid to carry out his threats and now Roman was too entangled in his web to defy him. Roman bowed his head and obeyed, buried his nature under the need to protect the man he loved and let the Warlock do as he wanted.

Until the day it was finally all too much.

\--

A map was spread out on a large table in the center of the throne room, showing King Thomas’ castle and the surrounding area. The Warlock always liked having his meetings in here. He liked to strut around and practise, to play make believe that he was already in Thomas’ place, that he had already usurped the throne and was the king of the sun. Roman had little choice but to play along, always standing a few feet away in his black uniform, dutifuling joining in on the playacting. 

This wasn’t acting, not anymore. This was the moment, at long last. The whole reason the Warlock had spared him, had set up this cunning trap. In the end it wasn’t just power for the sake of power, of having him dance like a puppet on a string although that was clearly a much enjoyed bonus. It was because of what Roman was - his life as the Right Hand of Thomas felt almost like a dream, something so far away and foreign now. Roman wasn’t a fool, he knew that sooner or later the Warlock would have demanded the information he needed to destroy the kingdom. He had just hoped that it would be later. Always, later. 

“King Thomas has his troops all scattered across the land, it appears I underestimated his... affection for you my pet.” The gloating words made him look up from the floor and his shoes which he had been examining with apparent fascination. The Warlock was staring at him with that sickeningly familiar smug smile, Roman swallowing a couple of times before he found his voice.

“Pardon?”

The Warlock rolled his eyes, exaggerating the movement as though annoyed. Roman had spent enough time in his cursed company to know he was anything but. Instead he was enjoying this. He was enjoying it all far too much, Roman feeling himself shake a little from repressed anger. Every interaction made it harder and harder for him to remember that he couldn't lash out as he wants. It’s still Virgil who will pay the price for his misbehaviour and he can’t even work out a way to send a message to Thomas, how is he supposed to protect them all like he is meant to?

“King Thomas. He is looking all over for you. Of course, this castle is shielded, you can only enter or leave with my say so. But he still has all his little groups scouring the countryside, trying to pick up any hint of your trail. I am surprised he cares so much about one pathetic knight. He’s lowered his defences, the fool. All his household knights and mages are looking for you, he’s left next to nobody looking after himself beyond the automated defences. So, Sir Roman... _my_ Sir Roman. The map is yours. Where are the defences the weakest?” He didn’t even try and hide the glee in his voice, the malicious delight in hurting him further. There really would be no going back after this moment, it would be his final step into the corruption, when the evil of his new life would submerge him completely. His legs moved at the implicit order without any input from him, carrying him the few feet from where he was standing to the table and the map, the Warlock watching expectantly. 

Roman hesitated once he reached it, torn between the two worlds. He had already made this choice, he knew that. He had made it a long time ago, when he had first knelt and offered homage to the beast in Virgil’s form. And yet now, faced with having to actually condemn everyone in his old life to death, he hesitated in delivering the final blow. He gazed down at the map without really seeing it, his mind replaying countless memories, times with Thomas, training with his old sparring partner Remy. All those people he loved, who trusted him, believed in him and he was just a few sentences away from pointing out how to kill them all.

He had no choice.

What was it Virgil had said? 

_We say there is no choice to comfort ourselves once the choice has already been made._

Virgil didn’t want this. Roman knew that, knew he had never wanted this and certainly didn’t want any more death, any more pain on his conscious. He knew his love well by now, he knew how he would react. He would add it all to his own burden despite the truth, and really Roman didn’t know how much more weight those thin shoulders could take. Roman was so caught up in his own thoughts, his own worry as his mind pulled him this way and that, that he missed the way the excitement drained out of the Warlock's eyes and cold fury replaced it. He didn’t notice the way a hand curled into a fist, didn’t notice anything until the beast was lashing out in an explosion of anger.

The blow sent him reeling, staggering against the table heavily. It was enough to make him fall to the ground, Roman feeling blood blossom in his mouth from where the shot of magic had hit him paired with the heavy knock to the chest against the table. He was just so tired, worn down from having to follow all the twisted orders, to being able to gain only snatches of time with Virgil that he couldn’t muster the energy to keep himself upright. 

Roman blinked a couple of times, the world hazy and refusing to focus, aware only of legs beside him, legs that betrayed the fact the Warlock had moved closer. A thousand thoughts flashed through his mind, a thousand fears - if he was lucky then the Warlock would merely focus his attention on him, and the punishment would end with just his own pain. The fears all revolved around what would happen if he decided to make Virgil suffer instead. 

He looked up when the world finally decided to stay in focus for longer than a few seconds, seeing the play of shadow and anger dance across features he knew so well, tiny sparks of purple lightning dancing around fingertips as he stood there, posed to deliver more pain. Internally, Roman tensed, preparing himself for the electricity to burn through his body once more, for agony that had chased him into unconsciousness the first time they had met. 

To his surprise, it never came. The Warlock clenched his fist, his expression still furious, a final glare at the downed knight before he turned his back on him and stomped back to the ornate throne. 

Something important had just happened, Roman could feel it. This wasn’t the Warlock planning ahead, carefully detached from everything going on around him and pushing the pieces around on the board as though it was just all some game to him. This wasn’t just him deciding to hurt someone else to make them suffer more. 

No, it was different somehow, he could almost taste the answer hovering the air around him, various events slowly drifting through his mind, other times when the Warlock had acted contrary to how he had expected. Something had happened and he needed to make a choice about what he was going to do as a result. Maybe this time, he could pick correctly. 

If only he could work out what the ‘something’ actually was. 

It all bubbled away in the back of his brain, Roman resigning himself to the fact that he didn’t know the answer yet. He just had to hope that he would and soon. In time for it to actually do some good. 

As rapid as the spring rain, the Warlock shifted topics, clicking his fingers in a show of magic. Pale lavender smoke billowed up in front of him, curling into a pillar roughly human sized. Roughly Logan sized in fact, the smoke vanished as rapidly as it had appeared, leaving a somewhat bewildered nerd in its place. Thick metal cuffs greedily swarmed up and around his body, slithering to snap themselves in place like eels, trapping Logan in place before he could so much as form a question out loud.

A soft hum came from the Warlock, a familiar sound coiling around his brain. It seemed to reach right into his mind and tug, pulling uncomfortably at his thoughts and trying to tear them apart. He made no effort to climb to his feet, his attention focused more on the pain inside his head and the effect it seemed to be having on everyone else around him. Logan was grimacing too, nose wrinkling up as though he could feel the scratching in his head, nails on a chalkboard. 

It was Patton who seemed the most affected however. Light rose up around him, light, almost translucent tendrils of some pale... pink? It wasn’t a shade he had seen before, his mind aching after the noise and so Roman couldn’t be completely sure what he was seeing. Whatever it was, it rose up higher into the air, spinning faster and faster before shooting off into all directions and vanishing in a blink of an eye. Patton stumbled a little to the side as the light disappeared, his hands raising up to his head as he gave a soft groan. 

“I... wha... what’s going on?” Patton mumbled, looking around in bewilderment. His gaze fell on Logan, eyes widening in shock at seeing him out of the dungeon, albeit chained. Without a word or thought, he started to move towards his soulmate, attention only for him. He probably hadn’t seen Logan since that night in the dungeons, Roman feeling a swirl of guilt in his belly at that thought, at how selfish he really was. He got to see Virgil almost every night. He got to hold him close and comfort him and all the while Logan and Patton had nothing but cold air to keep them company. 

The Warlock lifted a hand, tongue making that sharp clicking noise, Patton almost falling over his own feet at the sound. Even from his position on the floor, Roman could hear the intake of breath, the almost overwhelming scent of terror as the reality of the moment began to sink in. The Warlock had not brought Logan here for a happy reunion. Something terrible was about to happen.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he cautioned, voice deceptively soft. “Don’t. Don’t do that Patton. I released you so you could see this. Try and interfere and I will be forced to... well, I think you can imagine what I might be forced to do. We wouldn’t want to see Logan dead instead of mildly punished, now would we?”

The threat was enough to make Patton curl miserably in on himself and nod, just as the Warlock no doubt expected. This was his artform after all. He smiled knowingly at the reaction, glancing around the room to make sure everyone was paying attention to him and only him. 

All Roman could think was how much his Virgil would have hated to have all eyes on him, even if the only people there were the ones he loved. The Warlock continued to make a mockery out of everything Virgil was, everything he believed in, everything he tried to stand for. 

“It has come to my attention, that my body has been up to things it shouldn’t. He’s been feeding Logan again. I don’t recall giving him permission to feed Logan.” There was a dangerous bite to the Warlock’s words, as though he had been holding onto this grudge for a while now and had finally found the perfect time to let it all out. 

Roman pushed himself up to his feet, using the table to support himself, eyes flickering between the Warlock and Logan, gaze uncertain. It was all a trick of course, the Warlock needed Logan alive, needed him here in order to hurt the other two but knowing that didn’t change the fact that he was fully prepared to punish Logan for something that he had been content to allow happen because he was a petty, vindictive little worm and needed to feel good about himself by making others hurt.

“But I am a kind master. I will forgive him after Logan receives a beating. I will even officially grant him permission to feed Logan. On one condition. Roman. You will deliver the physical punishment to Logan. I cannot have slaves stealing and simply let them get away with it, now can I?”

The Warlock had never tried to make Roman be the one to deal out pain before. He had always enjoyed making the others do it, feeling his own power flex within them as they were forced to commit vile acts. Occasionally, he would lash out himself, force Virgil to watch helplessly behind his eyes as his body hurt people - normally, he did that whenever he wanted Roman to be injured, if only because of how much worse Virgil would feel to see it happen. Virgil would have never hit him, never hurt him. He would have rather died than cause the blow that had knocked Roman off his feet. He would have never done any of this so it was little surprise the Warlock did.

The Warlock didn’t carry through on his clear intention to hurt Roman further, despite looming over him with magic in hand.

“Tell me Logan. Am I not merciful?” Hand gripped Logan’s jaw as he spoke, voice a vicious hiss, barely recognizable as the low musical tones of Virgil, shaking Roman away from his thoughts and back to the danger at hand. The Warlock was no longer having fun. He wasn’t playing anymore. Roman wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing - good because it showed they were having an effect on him at last, but bad because it made him even more unpredictable and dangerous, an animal pushed into a corner. Fingers tightened further on Logan’s jaw, hard enough to bruise and leave marks. 

“Yes...” Logan swallowed heavily, voice pinched and raw. “You are most... merciful, my Lord.”

The Warlock laughed, a harsh, bark of a laugh. The hyena circling its prey. Fingers pulled away from Logan, his whole body turning away from him, dismissing him to focus all of his attention back on Roman. He felt small under that gaze, unimportant and it hurt to think that Virgil was probably watching all of this right now, unable to do anything but scream. 

“Good. Now. Roman, come along, do your duty.” A coiled black whip suddenly appeared next to him on the table he was leaning against, something thick and dangerous looking, the pieces falling rather heavily into place about what exactly the Warlock expected him to do, and what he expected him to use to do it. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at the whip for more than a second, eyes darting around the room in panic. 

Patton was watching the whole scene with both hands pressed tightly against his mouth, his eyes overflowing with silent tears that he made no attempt to stop or even hide. He rocked backwards and forwards on his feet as though he couldn’t quite hold himself still, one wrong move from completely breaking. Logan was looking directly at Roman, and somehow his expression was even worse than the raw agony on his soulmates face. Logan looked at him with _understanding_. With acceptance, bracing himself for pain that he thought was going to happen. There was no anger on Logan’s face, no hate and certainly no blame, just a world weary resigned expression. And the Warlock... well the Warlock looked positively gleeful and now that he had met those purple eyes, he found he couldn’t look away.

Roman stared at him, his breath heavy, chest heaving as though he had run a marathon. This was so much worse somehow than if Patton had hurt him or the Warlock himself because at least then it was one hundred percent the Warlock doing it. When Roman picked up the whip and brought it down on Logan’s back for however many times he was ordered to, it would still be the Warlock who had ordered it. But it would have been Roman that had actually carried it out, Roman who had made the choice to hurt someone else. 

No, there was no choice, he tried to remind himself. He had no choice in the matter. As though in response to thoughts he couldn’t hear, the Warlock spoke again, still staring deep into his eyes. 

“You have no choice, not if you want to keep Virgil safe, you know that. There is no choice. Now. Before I lose my patience and have to give you another demonstration of pain personally.” 

The whip moved, apparently of its own accord, nudging against his hand, Roman automatically recoiling in horror from it, eyes finally tearing away from the Warlock to stare down at the object instead. All he had to do was pick it up... and bring it down. He had no choice. He had _**no choice.**_

_There is always a choice!_

He had a choice. More than that however, he had an _idea_. It came to him quite suddenly, Roman feeling a thousand candles bursting into brilliant life above his head, the Warlock’s puzzling behaviour from before suddenly making perfect sense. He could be wrong about all this of course. It wouldn’t be the first time that Roman had seen a possible outcome and had just lept at the chance regardless of any evidence pointing the other way. On more than one occasion Roman had been accused of acting without thinking, of trusting to luck and chance to get his own way and there was no bigger risk than the one he was about to take. But he had to hope. He had to believe. If not in himself, in Virgil.

And that, at least, was easy.

Roman took a deep breath, turning to face the Warlock once more. His hands slipped behind his back as he adopted a pose, that, on the outside at least, looked submissive, a knight standing to attention and ready to obey any and all commands.

“No.”

The Warlock stared at him in a moment of undisguised shock, jaw dropping a little as he realised his newest toy was actually defying him. Roman took another breath, trying to calm his nerves, and he didn’t dare look away at either Patton or Logan, in case their expression weakneed his resolve. This was going to work. This had to work. After a couple of seconds of stunned silence, the Warlock pulled himself together, eyes narrowing. 

“What did you say?”

“No,” Roman repeated firmly. “I’m not going to do it. You are not going to hurt anyone else, you are done.”

“You will do it, or I will torture your friends, I will torture you. If need be, I will kill you with my bare hands and make Virgil watch.” They were all threats he had heard before, threats he knew the Warlock would be fully prepared to carry out. Past Roman would have caved for the safety of Virgil. But he knew - believed, hoped, hopedhopedhoped - something that the past versions of him didn’t know. Something that even the Warlock didn’t know.

“You’re not going to kill me,” Roman told him with absolute certainty. He even managed a smile, the expression splitting his lip back open, a fresh trickle of blood running hotly done the crease where his upper and lower lips met. 

“You’re not even going to hurt me badly. _He_ won’t let you.”

The Warlock laughed, mocking and cold. Before, it would have felt like each noise was series of blows against his body, designed to remind him of how different the Warlock was to Virgil and how this was not his love. Now it just made him angry. He was sick and tired of playing along with this game, with letting everything go the Warlock’s way. No longer. 

“Please. Are you talking about Virgil? Your pitiful soulmate can’t even summon up the courage to try and save you all during the night when he has an eight hour headstart and you think he could somehow help you now? Virgil can’t do a thing to stop me.”

Roman laughed. A bright, far too cheery laugh for the situation at hand, rocking forward a little on his heels, eagerly leaning towards the Warlock. To his internal satisfaction, the Warlock actually recoiled a fraction, clearly thrown by this sudden change, by the way Roman didn’t instantly crumble the second Virgil was threatened. 

“Oh, but he can,” Roman told him, voice as bright as the laugh, something almost manic in his tone. “He’s stopped you before hasn’t he. In the cells, when you threw me against the wall and I always wondered why you prevented me from hitting the wall, but now I realise. _You_ didn’t. Virgil stopped you. He did it in the throne room as well, the first time we met.”

“Hardly. I saw the glitter as the soulmate magic tried to weave itself around us and I knew I could use it to my advantage, that's all.”

Roman knew Virgil’s voice. He knew the rise and fall of it, the melodic hum as he considered something or the building tension when he grew worked up and angry over some injustice, the fond frustration whenever he thought Roman said or did something he found stupid - at least, he hoped it was fond, a worry for another day. 

Most importantly in this moment at least, he knew when Virgil was lying.

The Warlock might not be Virgil and he was a far better liar than his love could ever be. There were countless differences between them, an endless list of ways in which the Warlock was a pale imitation of Virgil. It was a list he would sometimes whisper to Virgil in the night, when the other man was beset by all his inner demons, the fear of what he could become. It was a list that had given them both so much reassurance and strength. For all that however, and for all that he had cursed the fact until this very moment, there were similarities. They still had the same face. The same voice. There was still that faint change in pitch as the Warlock spoke, betraying a lie in the air.

“Falsehood,” Roman said simply, his smile now sharp enough to cut in turn, the blood still hot against his face and it only spurred him on, keep him going, fueled by blood and sheer rage that this spirit had tried to steal his soulmate’s body, that he was holding them all here. “He has the power to stop you.”

“Even if that was true, why didn't he do it to stop me from hurting his precious Patton and Logan? He always claimed to love them with everything, but I guess they don't matter as much as you.”

“No,” Roman replied, his confidence growing with every cruel world that fell out of the monsters mouth. They just proved that he was worried, that he was scared Roman was right. He wasn't going to let the Warlock belittle Virgil any longer, wasn't going to feed into those insecurities, not when his love had the potential to finally soar. “He just didn't know he could. Virgil _knows_ now. He knows he can stop you. I won't let you plant doubt in his mind, he won't let you hurt his friends anymore either.”

The Warlock blinked rapidly, as if trying to process what was happening, his mind clearly darting this way and that. Suddenly, he relaxed, expression softening into one of victory, Roman feeling his own stomach tie itself up in knots at that - if the Warlock was relaxed, it was time to be concerned.

“And I would be worried... if Virgil was awake and had any idea this conversation was happening.”

Hand lifted, a glowing orb nestled in the palm of it, made up of some kind of angry energy, sparks flying around it like a swarm of particularly pissed off wasps intent on stinging everything they could get their greedy little stingers on. It looked a hundred times worse than the bolt of magical energy the Warlock had conjured up in the past, the one that still made his muscles ache in pain just thinking about. 

“Ready to beg forgiveness pet?” The cruel and confident tone was back in the Warlock’s voice and the only good thing about any of this was that he had seemed to have forgotten his original intent in punishing Logan, and was now intent on making Roman suffer instead. He could handle that. And if he was right, he wouldn’t have to.

Roman shook his head, standing even straighter now, as tall as he possibly could, pushing every positive thought he could into his mind, that same, sharp, animalistic smile on his face, baring his teeth at the enemy.

“He will save me.”

“And if he doesn't?”

“He will. I love him. I trust him,” Roman said firmly, and he wasn’t going to give in, wasn’t going to bow his head at this moment any longer. He was going to save Virgil, even if this wasn’t the most heroic way to do it, even if all he could do was make Virgil realise he could save himself. The Warlock gave another laugh, lifting his arm in a sweeping motion, lining up the attack. Was it Roman just hoping or was there a hint of hesitation in the Warlock’s eyes? He didn’t flinch, didn’t so much as blink as he stood there, unafraid of the promised pain. 

The Warlock frowned, face twisting into a snarl as he stared back and no, Roman wasn’t imagining it. He really was hestating, was holding back for some reason - holding back because of someone, because Virgil was fighting him, it had to be. The Warlock gritted his teeth, forcing his arm back out, ball humming louder. With a scream, he shifted his aim at the last moment, bolt of electricity flying harmlessly just to the left of Roman’s cheek, so close he could feel the air current as it zapped past him to burn a hole in one of the banners hanging down the wall.

The Warlock doubled over as if in agony, another scream ripped from his throat and then another and another. 

“Virgil? Virgil!” Instantly, Roman was moving, practically sprinting the short distance between them, hands catching at him just as the Warlock’s legs seemed to give way completely, the shorter male completely supported by the knight. 

The Warlock - no, _Virgil_ \- looked up at him, mouth wide as he drew in deep gasping breaths, a drowned man come up for air after so long under water. For the longest pause, it was all Virgil seemed able to do, shuddering and gasping against him, still limp in his hold, his focus apparently only on drawing much needed oxygen into him.

“You idiot, you idiot, why did you do that?” Virgil asked at last, voice barely there at all. “He could have killed you, I could have killed you, why would you do that?”

“I trust you,” Roman told him simply, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world and perhaps, to him, it was. His smile lost some of that vicious edge as he stared at him. “You could never hurt me.”

Virgil jerked a little in his arms, trying to push himself into standing on his own, feet pushing hopelessly against the floor but even now he lacked any strength it seemed, reminding Roman of some weak little kitten in his arms. It wasn’t a comparison Virgil would have enjoyed and he could just imagine how his love would hiss - rather like a kitten - if he dared voice his thoughts out loud. In another time and place, he would have done just that, partly to see the reaction and partly because he wouldn’t have to worry about accidentally dragging the mood down by reminding him of this half life they were both living. Virgil tilted his head to stare up at Roman, gaze wide and unguarded, searching for... something in his eyes. What, Roman didn’t know, but he tried to make his own expression as open as possible, letting Virgil see how much he loved him, how much he cared and how much he trusted that he would keep them both safe. Virgil carried on staring, still searching for that elusive something.

“I knew you wouldn’t let him do it. I just.... I _knew_ it.” Roman was normally better at words, had once considered becoming a poet instead of a knight. He knew all the grand romantic songs and works by heart and yet in this moment he couldn’t find the words to explain the deep trust he felt when he looked at Virgil. It was more than just blind faith, more than love sweeping him along without care for his safety. He looked at Virgil and saw... he saw everything. Everything he could ever want from life right there in a sarcastic parcel of purple eyes and magic. 

Roman knew that Virgil’s life had never been easy. Even before the Warlock, he had grown up in a village where magic was feared, where he was shunned by the suspicion although they could never prove it. He hated so much of himself because of those small minded bigots. Roman hadn’t realised there were still places on the fringes of the Kingdom that thought like that, that saw magic as a threat.

When they got out of this, he would have to talk to his King, see if they could visit those outer villages, show them that magic was not something to be feared but rather celebrated. It was a skill and one that had to be learnt, had to be controlled for everyone's safety. But never forced, never repressed like Virgil’s stories spoke of. Who knew how many more scared, unregistered mages there were out there, ones that lived in mortal dread of being discovered or who had lived up to the fears by being threatened and hurt and ended up accidentally defending themselves. 

He would enjoy visiting Virgil’s home village the most. Showing them what fools they had been to turn their back on such a wonderful man, to have Virgil by his side as an important member of the royal court. Roman longed to take him to the city, to King Thomas’ castle and introduce him to all the magic users there, to show him he wasn’t a freak or any of the words that he had grown up hearing on a daily basis. He wanted to show him the world, wanted him to earn a place in Thomas’ council - Virgil was more than smart, brave and loyal enough to merit such a post on his own. 

Patton and Logan needed to come as well, Roman had realised early on that the three came as a packet but he didn’t mind, he was rather fond of the other two in their own right. Virgil rocked his head forehead, leaning into him and Roman was pretty sure he was blushing as he just hung there but that was ok because he was blushing too.

“You’re such a sap,” Virgil mumbled against his chest, a huff of an almost laugh slipping free. It was the closet he had ever come to saying ‘I love you’ to Roman. Oh, he knew - hoped - his storm cloud felt the same say, he saw the love in his eyes, saw the wonder but he wouldn’t push, wouldn’t demand it from him until Virgil was ready to say it. No matter how badly he wanted to hear it. Virgil suddenly stiffened in his arms, body rigid and non responsive to Roman’s gentle shake. 

“Virgil?” 

“No, no, he’s coming back, I can’t hold him,” Virgil rambled, his cheeks wet with tears. He sucked in another sharp, painful breath, as though it might be the last thing he did. Hand flicked out, the chains holding Logan in place vanishing, Patton instantly there to hold him close. The ease in which he used his magic always took Roman’s breath away, at how powerful Virgil was and how little he still thought of himself despite it all. The Warlock had wanted a body with magic, a body with power and he had certainly not been disappointed on that front.

“He’s angry, oh god, he’s so angry, he’s a fire and it _burns_. Roman, you need to... you need to go, you need to take them and run, please, Roman, please, please, please.” 

“Shush, shush, it's alright, just focus on me for a moment,” Roman soothed, ignoring the desire to run - he wouldn’t get very far and how could he possibly leave Virgil alone anyway? “Just look at me, nothing else, you’re doing so good my storm cloud.”

Virgil let out a pained gasp, hand lifting to cling frantically at his arm, fingers curling tightly against him as though he was his only lifeline but he looked, stared at Roman as though he was the only thing in the world worth paying attention to, as if he was the last thing he might ever see.

“I love you,” Roman whispered, at a loss of what else to do, what else to say to stop the nightmare from starting all over again for them. 

“I... I... I lo...” Virgil stuttered, the words refusing to escape his throat. Roman wanted to hear those words so badly, wanted the reassurance that the would bring. But not like this. He didn’t want them to be farewell words born out of the fear that Virgil might never get the chance to say them and Roman could almost taste that fear in the air around them, the terror that the Warlock might stop them from ever seeing each other again because of this. 

He was losing Virgil _again_.

Roman hadn’t actually thought past the moment Virgil would stop the Warlock - he’d simply rather naively assumed that the moment Virgil regained control the spirit would somehow be displaced completely and they would win. He hadn’t planned for this, having to watch Virgil shake and shudder in his arms as he struggled so desperately to fight this losing battle, to just hold him off for another second and then another. 

He wished he knew how to do this fight for him. How to take this burden and carry it in his place. But there was nothing he could do but watch as Virgil was slowly drowned and suffocated under the weight of the evil.

Without any further thought, Roman pulled him close, lips finding Virgil’s own, the first time they had ever actually kissed on the lips. 

It was love and hope, and bitterness. Not the first proper kiss he had imagined having with the other man but then again nothing else in their relationship had gone in the traditional way, in the way Roman might have expected or hoped. It was still Virgil and it was perfect for that alone, Roman lifting a hand to tangle his fingers in hair he was, quite honestly, obsessed about. It was as soft as the first time he touched, Roman deepening the kiss, feeling Virgil’s free hand slip to rest at the small of his back, holding him close. 

Roman kissed with the same intensity he brought to everything in his life, trying to will all his feelings, all his love into the action. 

As ‘saving Virgil’ plans went, this was one of his worse. All he had to go on was hazy memories of stories, of the magic that was in a True Love Kiss. Soulmate love was real, deep, it was something that connected people more intimately than anything else in the world. But despite all that, not everyone had a True Love, the type that could break curses, move mountains. All Roman could do was pray that their love was special enough. That he could be good enough for Virgil and more than that, that there was something in the old wives tales that spoke of a magic more powerful than anything else. 

Virgil jerked backward, slipping free of his grasp, Roman’s name a muffled gasp on his lips.

Energy coiled through him, building up inside of Roman from the tip of his toes all the way up to the end of every strand of hair. It felt not unlike the wave from before but where that had been one of foreboding, of a dark energy that promised to submerge him, this felt more like the rush of a waterfall sweeping clear everything in its path. It made him gasp, feeling this surge of power flow through him, as he unconsciously took a step back, throwing up a hand against the bright purple that suddenly flooded the room, a high pitched scream making him wince a little. It took a second for the energy to fade enough for him to think over the beating rush that was his own heartbeat, for him to realise that the sound had come from Virgil.

Eyes snapped open - eyes he hadn’t even realised he had closed, forcing himself to adjust to the brilliant purple that even now flooded the room. To the side of him, he could see Patton and Logan, the pair pressed close, Logan’s mouth open as though in question. They weren’t moving. It was almost as though they were trapped in amber, the pair clinging onto each other for dear life. Patton had one hand half raised to ward off the light, caught in mid movement. Roman took a step towards him, the movement sluggish, heavy as if he was wading through quicksand. Perhaps he was the one in amber, caught in a grain in time.

Another scream had him focusing his attention back on the man in the center of the room. Virgil arched as though in agony, a shade of pure black shifting out of his chest, another form in an identical pose. It looked like an older man, half his form rotted away, bone where a left arm should be.

The shadow gathered a few inches above Virgil, faint dots of black dust like particles connecting them as Virgil rose up completely off the ground. The purple light swirled and ebbed around him, twisting and coiling around his wrists, his ankles. It wrapped itself around the black remains of what he could only assume was the tattered remnants of the Warlock’s spirit, darkened and mangled through its ill use. The light pressed against him, pushing, trying to force the half a being further away from Virgil’s shaking form.

As if one, they both screamed again, the shadow squirming desperately as it broke the mirrored effect of them, trying to twist itself around, hands scrambling and clawing against the air as though it wanted to try and pull itself back inside Virgil’s body. It did want that.

Roman forced himself to wade through whatever was impeding his progress, each step harder than the one before. It reminded him of tug of war games in training, pulling against a near impossible opposing force. This was no game now and he was damned if he was going to let some invisible energy keep him away from Virgil.

Step by painful step he made his way closer, until he was by his side. Virgil’s eyes were closed, face twisted in a pained scream, voice rubbed raw by his cries. 

Roman looked down, unable to look at him any longer, breath catching in his throat. Purple spun around his hands too, a darker shade as though mixed with red, and quite suddenly, he could _feel_ it. Magic, pulsing through him, a strange confidence radiating from him as he glanced back up to where the shade still shrieked and shuddered. A roving, sightless eye passed over him, Roman feeling a horrible, itching sensation in the back of his brain, the impulse to just run away passing through him in a flash.

No. 

That was the Warlock, that was whatever this magic was trying to stop him and Roman was not going to give in to those urges, not when he could feel this magic that was not his own but so comforting. It wasn't Virgil’s either, it was something blended, it was their love manifested.

“I love him. I love him with everything I am and I want to spend the rest of my life proving that to him in every way possible if he will let me,” Roman told the shadow firmly, eyes flashing with fire. The sightless eye swivelled in his direction, focused on the sound of his voice, that same creeping itch clawing up his back but for Virgil he could ignore it. 

Killing a defenseless creature was not in his nature but while the Warlock could not fight back right now there was no doubt in his mind that if they didn't take the chance to finish him here and now, everyone they loved was going to die. He had sworn to do this and Roman was nothing if not a man of his word. He wasn't even sure if the Warlock was even technically alive, some beast kept in this world through forbidden, dark magic. Looking at the shadow, all he could feel was a mix of revulsion and pity, Roman feeling the strength to carry on.

“But he isn't mine to possess like a thing and he _certainly_ isn't yours. He's his own person and I know he can do this. So get the hell out of his body, you son of a bitch!”

Magic formed into a sword - of course it would be a sword - Roman giving a short bark of a laugh at the sight, almost giddy. What was it he had said to the Warlock, back in the cells, almost another lifetime ago? Ah yes. Roman’s smile split wider, more blood running down his face from the cut he had received as he spoke once more.

“I am going to _kill_ you, I swear by all the Gods.” 

He thrust forward, glowing blade piercing the smoky chest and digging deep. The Warlock screamed, voice getting deeper and deeper, hollowed out by the magic that impaled him. He stopped trying to fight his way back into Virgil’s body, twisting and screaming as bolts of light started to shoot out of his mouth, his eyes. The pressure built up in the Warlock, his body shuddering wildly. 

With a final, agonized scream, the shade of the Warlock exploded, the incandescent bright light disintegrating his form into nothingness.

Virgil’s body dropped to the ground with a dull thump, the purple light bleeding away. His ears popped, the world rushing back to him in between breaths, Patton’s hand moving down as the pair slipped out of their living statues. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see them turn to look at each for for a second before looking back at the scene in front of them, at a Roman and a Virgil who were not where they had been a split second before. 

Roman felt all the magic ebbing away from him as he swayed on the spot. Along with all his own strength, all his energy draining away with every shallow breath he took. Dimly, from a distance, he thought he heard someone shouting his name, world going black. Eyes rolled up in the back of his head as his legs gave way under him, Roman unconscious before he even hit the ground.

\---

“Roman? Roman can you hear me?” 

The world was out of focus, soft colours blurring together. A face hovered over him, Roman vaguely aware of a sensation on his cheek. It was light, there one moment and gone the next. Almost as though something was tapping against the skin. The pressure came back, a little stronger this time, the contact sharpening the world around him.

The face solidified into Logan’s, the man staring down at him in worry.

“What... what happened?” Roman asked slowly, his mind freewheeling along the castle walls, refusing to be pinned down or offer any explanation as to the recent past.

“I was hoping you would be able to tell us. One moment you and Virgil were kissing, and there was a bright light. The next you are both falling unconscious to the ground.”

Virgil. Memories finally slammed into him, with the force of them falling from the walls, Roman trying to twist his body to peer past Logan and in the direct Virgil had fallen. 

“Easy, Roman,” Logan warned, taking a step back and offering him his hand to help him up. Beyond him, he could see Virgil slowly rising to his feet, Patton helping him. Roman accepted the hand, easily pulled to his feet, gaze never once leaving the two meet standing a few feet away from them. Virgil barely seemed aware of anything that was going on, climbing to his feet automatically. 

“He’s... he’s gone....” Virgil said in a daze. A smile broke out on his lips, one he automatically lifted a hand to try and hide but was clearly there all the same. He looked almost shell shocked, his eyes wide and glassy, staring ahead but not seeing anything. 

“Pat, he's... He's _gone_.” Sob caught in his throat as he half fell into Patton’s arms, body shaking. Patton drew him into a hug, murmuring soft words into his hair, voice too low for Roman to be able to actually pick up on any of the words. He didn’t need to hear them to understand that they were words of comfort, of love. All the things that Patton had been longing to say to Virgil without the Warlock breathing down their next. It was exactly what Virgil needed, Roman watching as his shoulders slowly stopped shaking, calming a little in the embrace.

Virgil finally looked up from Patton, lifting a hand to wipe rather uselessly at his eyes and the tears that were still slipping freely from them. He looked and he saw Roman, eyes lighting up at the sight of the knight standing once more. 

For a second, Roman’s entire world was that smile. It was bright, delighted and more than that, _free_. It was like nothing he had seen on Virgil’s face before and it made him feel very humbled to know it was directed at him, that he could inspire such a look. He was going to carry on doing everything he could in order to make sure Virgil smiled again and again at him like that. 

The heavy cloak the Warlock favoured was flung off as Virgil darted towards him, gaze intent, Roman feeling a curl of pleased anticipation forming in his gut at the look in his love’s eyes. Virgil kissed him fiercely, almost knocking him backwards with the intensity as he threw himself forward, arms wrapping around his waist. Roman kissed back with equal fire, with joy, the relief of the moment finally hitting him. They had done it! They were free. Oxygen was the only reason they finally pulled away, Roman’s chest heaving as he stared down at the slightly shorter man. 

One kiss didn’t seem enough. Thankfully it seemed as though Virgil agreed with him, a slightly lazy smile curling on his lips, something slightly wicked but yet still innocent as he drew in a breath before leaning in again, pressing a series of kisses against him, softer but no less important. It was everything that Roman could have ever hoped from in his soulmate and so much more besides. 

“I love you Roman, I love you so much,” he whispered, words slipping out in between each kiss, Virgil peppering a soft trail of them across his face as if trying to learn the shape of his cheeks and nose through touch alone. 

“We should leave,” Logan said, voice interrupting the moment and reluctantly pulling Roman’s attention from Virgil and the kisses. Even without those, Virgil was still staring at him in a joy so bright it was almost blinding. He had never seen Virgil be so open about his feelings, and he wondered what else would be different, now the Warlock was gone. What else he had hidden to try and protect himself. Roman was looking forward to learning everything he could about this newest version of his Virgil, looking forward to finally showing him his world. 

Reluctantly, he focused his attention back on Logan. The other man’s eyes were darting around the throne room, almost as though he was expecting an attack at any more. His hand rested protectively on Patton’s shoulder, almost without thinking. 

“You're right.” Roman agreed easily, mind turning to the map he had seen and how far away they were from Thomas’ castle. It would take them days on foot to reach it but they could always stock up on supplies from the kitchen before they left. Perhaps they would even run into one of the roving bands the Warlock claimed were out looking for him. It would certainly make things easier. Logan gave a short little cough, something somehow awkward in the noise.

“I assume you will wish to take us all to King Thomas’ castle for interviews and other... events?”

Roman frowned a little, thrown by the strange wording of the question. He didn't like the subtle implications within it. Interview? Events? Logan couldn’t possibly mean what he thought he meant surely. Hand rested on the small of Virgil’s back, half leaning into him to breathe in his scene, to remind himself that Virgil was still next to him and not screaming in agony somewhere as he tried to unpick the subtleties within the question. 

“Well... of course. I want them to meet my soulmate. And my...” Roman trailed off for a moment, rolling the next word around in his mind, unsure if it fit. They had been through so much, in such a short space of time and yet they had barely spoken to each other free of the corrupting influence of the Warlock. It still fit. It had to fit, if only for the hope that they could somehow reach that state in the future. “I want them to meet my new friends. The last victims of the Warlock, nothing more.”

Logan’s head jerked back a little as though struck and Roman didn't understand what he could have said to provoke such a reaction. Unless the idea of them being friends horrified him. 

“You do not... seek retribution? Someone has to be seen to pay for the Warlock’s actions, the King may not believe your tale. It is... fairly ludicrous to the outside ear.” 

“Someone did. The Warlock. King Thomas will hear the true story and feel the same as me. I don't blame Virgil for what that monster forced him to do with a body he had stolen.” It seemed ludicrous to Roman, that Logan could even imagine otherwise but then he didn’t know Thomas personally, like Roman did. He didn’t know what the King was really like. Logan’s frown simply grew deeper.

“Or... me? I did sentence you to death. I would understand if you needed to punish someone else for what happened here. Unlike Patton or Virgil, he was not speaking through me at that point. Before and after yes. But he allowed me the... honour of saying those words of my own free will.”

“Or you,” Roman told him firmly. “You are just as much as victim as Patton or Virgil. You were forced into a horrible situation where the choice was either play the villain or watch your Soulmate suffer horribly and possibly die. I don’t blame you at all for what you picked. I picked the same after all.”

Logan nodded, face still a little uncertain, forehead pinched and he had to hope that Patton could talk some sense into him, could make him realise that nothing bad was going to happen to any of them. Roman wasn’t going to let it. This was his family, as strange and as broken as it might be, a family to add to the one he already had within Thomas’ circle but his family nevertheless.

“I don’t blame any of you. That includes you Virgil,” Roman added, warm eyes shifting down to look at his soulmate fondly. Virgil didn’t believe him, it was clear in his eyes, the way he looked up and away. That was alright. There was time now, time to prove over and over again that he was right, time to prove that Virgil was worthy. He had to get him out of here first, away from this castle and all the terrible memories it held and somewhere new, somewhere where he could create new ones to share with his love. “Now... let's go home.”

“Indeed.” 

Roman entwined his fingers with Virgil’s as they followed Logan and Patton out of the throne room, stopping briefly in the kitchen to load themselves up as quickly as they could, unable to resist sneaking glances at the man by his side every couple of seconds just to reassure himself that this was real and not some fever dream his mind had conjured up. 

Not that he needed to sneak glances, Virgil was his soulmate, there was nothing stopping him from just gazing in awe at the beauty that was the other man. There was no need to hide those reactions now, no need to worry that someone might be forced to betray them to the Warlock

There was no Warlock. They were free.

The four of them made their way through the building and out into daylight, Virgil blinking a little and pressing closer against Roman’s side as they walked across the courtyard, his warmth a comforting presence to the knight. 

Ahead of them, Patton vanished into a smaller building near the gatehouse, Roman unconsciously picking up the pace to follow. Even though he knew they were safe from the Warlock now, something unpleasant tugged at his heart and he found he didn’t like the idea of any of them out of his sight, just in case. Who knew what could be lurking in that building, what dangers or traps that might have been left... or, Roman realised with surprise as they entered, just how many horses the Warlock owned.

“I found the horses!” Patton told them gleefully, glancing up for a moment from the horse he was cooing over before he looked back at the beast, petting and whispering soft words to it, the chestnut mare almost leaning into the touch, clearly in love with Patton already. Next to him, Logan was already mounted on a similarly shaded horse, eyes flickering between his soulmate and the doors leading back into the courtyard and freedom. 

Virgil wasn’t the only one scarred by his experiences within these walls, Roman realised. It would take time for that slightly wild look in Logan’s eyes to fade, for the nightmares that clung to all of them to loosen their grip. None of them were going to be the same as they were before. He knew he wasn’t immune either, that there were issues he needed to face but they were problems for another time, another day when they were all safe. Roman took a couple of steps further in, Virgil instantly letting go of his hand, the knight turning to look back at him in a silent question.

“I uh... I’m not really keen on horses,” Virgil admitted softly, still staring around the stable in naked wonder. 

Seeing daylight for the first time in who knew how long probably would have that effect on most people. Roman nodded to show he understood before he looked back at the beasts and the silver, ghost like one in particular. A click of his tongue was all it took for the horse to trot towards him, Roman feeling a strange affinity for it. Throughout the whole process, Virgil kept a nervous distance away from the horse Roman had selected for himself, awkwardly fidging and shifting from foot to foot, clearly uncertain about what he was supposed to do. 

“Ride with me,” Roman suggested suddenly, the idea hitting him in a flash. Virgil blinked a couple of times as though it might suddenly make sense to him if he did that.

“What?”

“Ride with me,” he repeated, swinging up onto the horse and offering a Virgil his most charming smile. Virgil simply stared at him, arching an eyebrow clearly unimpressed. Well. It was time to bring out the big guns, Roman leaning down a fraction and holding out of hand to him, voice dropping to a near whisper as he stared at him with undisguised love. “Do you trust me?” 

Virgil blushed a deep, deep red and Roman felt his love for the colour start to bloom once more in his mind. Maybe red wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

“Sap. Yes.” Virgil took the offered hand, cool fingers closing around his own in a determined grip and Roman knew it must have taken so much courage for him to do that after admitting he wasn’t keen on horses - which, in Virgil talk was probably code for terrified of them. Roman pulled him up before he could overthink the action too much, Virgil giving a noise of surprise at the sudden movement. He slid his arms around Roman’s waist as he settled behind him, holding on for dear life. With anyone else it might have been uncomfortable, but with Virgil... well with him, everything was always just right. 

Roman smiled, and turned the horse towards Thomas’ castle, towards his physical home, although his real home was currently pressed up against his back, a muffled squeak slipping out of him as the horse actually moved. 

The sun was starting to make its slow journey down into the earth as they finally rode out the gates, the moon waiting for its chance to shine its silvery rays down upon them. It would take most of the night for them to make the journey and day would be chasing their heels by the time they reached the castle. For the first time since this whole mess began, he didn’t long for the day to end or dread the thought of night passing. 

“Ready to see the sunset, love?” Roman asked, the term of endearment slipping easily into his sentence, blush on his face. Arms tightened around his waist, Virgil turning his head a little to rest his cheek against the knights back and although Roman couldn’t see it, he could all but _feel_ the smile on Virgil’s face, that bright, blissful smile of contentment that was so rare but one that was for Roman alone.

“Yeah. I think I am.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ceremony of Innocence [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16172990) by [Acantha_Echo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acantha_Echo/pseuds/Acantha_Echo), [ConsultingCompanion94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ConsultingCompanion94/pseuds/ConsultingCompanion94)




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